When It All Comes Down
by FS-13
Summary: Things are not always as they seem. But when an apparent reality destroys a person, whether or not it is "real" doesn't matter. When an assignment forces Tony to fake his death, Ziva must learn to live without him—something she's not sure she can do—Tiva—
1. Broken

**Title: **When It All Comes Down

**Rating: **T

**Pairing:** Tony/Ziva

**Summary:** Things are not always as they seem. But when an apparent reality destroys a person, whether or not it is "real" doesn't really matter —Tiva—

**Beginning Notes: **So I started this story about two months ago and it's pretty much been my baby. I have another account here, and my stories over there were neglected because I got so into this. I really, really like it, and I really, really hope you do too. So read on, if you please!

* * *

_The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight  
__Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time  
__I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts  
__I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out_

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
__With a broken heart that's still beating  
__In the pain, there is healing  
__In your name I find meaning  
__So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
__I'm barely holdin' on to you…_

* * *

_**Scene One — Broken**_

_Tick…Tick…Tick…_

Ziva sighed as she rolled over, the annoying tick-tick of the old alarm clock on the bedside table ushering her back from the semi-conscious state she'd spent the last four hours in. She turned off the alarm, despite the fact she still had two hours before she technically had to wake up, and she climbed out of bed, no longer interested in this half-hearted attempt at sleep.

_"Clear," Ziva called as she made her way upstairs to help Tony finish checking the second floor. He was standing at the end of the hall, just opening a door._

_"How many freakin' rooms does one guy need?" He was complaining. Ziva laughed as she proceeded to help him search._

Ziva managed to dig up her running clothes, pulling them out of the mess of a duffel bag. Packing certainly wasn't Gibbs forte; at least he'd remembered to throw these in, though. She dressed without giving the action any attention, barely remembering to tie her hair back before she slipped out of the room, moving in her silent way towards the stairs. It was quiet in the small house, of course; Abby wouldn't wake up until she absolutely had to. Gibbs was probably already down in the basement, working on his boat. Ziva would happily avoid them until she absolutely _had_ to face them.

_"Waste of time," Tony grumbled unhappily as he walked towards another door. Ziva gave him a small, tolerant smile as she started to open a door as well; the last door on the floor._

_"You will get over it—"_

_Her words were cut off as she'd been starting to open abruptly flew open, the edge catching her in the head and knocking her down. Tony turned at the sound of wood connecting with skin._

_"Ziva!"_

_The man on the other side of the door ran past the momentarily dazed woman, shooting down the stairs. Ziva shook her head, ignoring the pain that originated from the spot where she had been hit. "Damn it," she hissed, drawing her gun and running after him, Tony hot on her heels._

Cold, early morning air whipped past Ziva as she ran, cooling the sweat that made its way down her face. This was the first time she'd been running since she'd been forcefully relocated to Gibbs' house. The route she was taking was new, unfamiliar. But somehow comforting. A change from the ordinary.

Maybe she needed the change. She drew in as deep of a breath as her aching lungs would allow; they burned with the effort. Her legs screamed in protest. She wasn't sure how long she had been running for, or even how to get back to Gibbs'; that was how little attention she'd paid her route. It was almost tempting to _not_ go back, to just keep running, to only stop when her legs absolutely refused to work and gave out from beneath her, causing her to crumple to the sidewalk. Of course, what she would do when _that_ happened she didn't know.

Nor did she care.

_"Federal agents!" Ziva and Tony shouted in one voice as they pulled their guns, preparing to shoot their target. The man seemed to be thinking along the same lines; he looked over his shoulder, firing off a couple of rounds and forcing the agents to duck, momentarily impeding them. Ziva was the first to straighten and prepare to shoot, only to hear another gun blast as the man beat her to it._

_And suddenly she was tackled from behind, pushed down out of harm's way. She was already preparing her gun before she'd fully hit the ground, and fired a shot of her own; the bullet hit true, burying itself in the man's leg and causing him to go down with a shout of pain. Ziva smiled triumphantly as she rolled onto her back and sat up, her eyes searching Tony out._

_"Thank you—"_

_She cut herself off abruptly when she realized _he_ was the ground as well. On his back. A blood stain forming on his jacket_.

Gibbs was just coming up from the basement when Ziva finally returned, nearly three hours after she had left. They stopped for a moment, looking at one another, each with unreadable expressions. Gibbs swept his eyes over his agent, taking in her tired expression, the pallor of her skin (which was downright odd considering she'd clearly been running), and the vacancy in her eyes where a spark of life use to reside.

A spark that had died along with his senior field agent.

_"Tony!"_

_Ziva was in action before she'd fully registered the blood; she got on her knees, crawling over the short distance separating her from Tony. The jagged bullet hole glared up at her dead center in Tony's chest, accented by the muddy stain of blood painted across his formerly gray jacket. _No, no, no_, Ziva panicked silently as she pressed one hand as tightly as she could over the wound (causing Tony to wince) and grabbing her cell phone out of her pocket, dialing nine-one-one and rattling off the situation and location before the dispatcher could say even half a word. The phone was quickly abandoned when Tony raised a hand, resting it over the one Ziva had against his chest._

_"Zi…"_

_Panicked mahogany eyes bet quickly fading green, and Tony smirked a bit. "Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?"_

_"Oh be quiet," Ziva hissed as she rested her remaining hand over Tony's. "I know you are not going to die, you are far too stubborn."_

_"You can't get rid of me that easily anyways," Tony promised, chuckling. Ziva winced when the laugh turned into a harsh, painful-sounding cough._

_"I am sure I cannot," Ziva mumbled, ducking her head, as if that would somehow make the terrible sound lessen._

_"Besides, if I died Gibbs would bring me back to life just to kill me again. Who wants to deal with that kind of hassle?" Ziva raised her head again to look at Tony; his teasing smirk was more pronounce now. He was trying to make her feel better. Ziva kicked herself as the fact hit her hard. He shouldn't have been worrying about her. He should be worrying about himself._

_"Shut up," she ordered firmly, hoping her voice was stronger than she was feeling. She felt Tony's fingers wrap themselves lightly around hers._

_"Yes ma'am."_

Ziva felt as if she was running on automatic as she dragged herself up the stairs, stopping in her designated room long enough to get a change of clothes before disappearing into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She turned the water on as hot as it would go, ignoring the obvious pain of it hitting her cold skin as she climbed in.

_After only two hours of sleep Ziva was up and awake, moving around and getting ready to leave before Abby — who had slept on Ziva's couch after half-dragging the woman out of the hospital — was even aware that the sun was starting to rise._

_"Ziva, it's only six a.m.," the Goth mumbled as she watched Ziva bustle around the kitchen. "Visiting hours aren't until eight, not to mention you didn't fall asleep until, what, four? Go back to bed."_

_"I am not tired," Ziva replied flatly. "If you want to sleep some more, you can take my bed, I will be quiet."_

_"No, no, I'm up." Abby sighed as she stumbled off the couch, tripping over the overly large sweatpants Ziva had given her to sleep in. "I don't suppose there's a convenience store located near here that sells Caf-Pow?"_

_"Sorry. Will you settle for some coffee?"_

_"It should tie me over until we leave for the hospital," Abby ceded as she made her way into the kitchen, taking the offered coffee mug. "You don't mind if we make a pit-stop, right?"_

_Ziva sighed, trying not to sound annoyed. She wouldn't deny Abby her Caf-Pow. And there was _really_ no reason to rush to the hospital, Tony was _fine_, the doctor had promised he would be fine, the surgery had gone perfectly, the bullet was out of him, he was going to be o_kay_. There was no need to rush._

_"Of course, Abby. We will stop anywhere you want to stop."_

_Abby smiled weakly. "He's going to be okay, Ziva."_

_Ziva quickly busied herself with pouring another cup of coffee. "I am aware, Abby. I do not need reassurance."_

_"Do you need a hug?" Ziva looked over her shoulder at Abby, who was setting her cup of coffee aside, holding her arms out. An offer. Ziva smiled sadly as she stepped forward, letting Abby envelope her in a warm hug._

Knock-Knock-Knock

_The sound of knuckles against Ziva's front door broke the two apart. Ziva looked between Abby and the door, the bewilderment she was feeling clear in Abby's eyes. "Maybe my neighbor locked himself out again…" Ziva mumbled as she started towards the door._

_Her stomach dropped when she looked through the peephole and saw Gibbs standing on the other side_.

Abby was standing against the wall across from the bathroom door when Ziva finally walked back out into the hall. They looked at each other for a long time, Abby expression barely controlled, her eyes overflowing with emotion; a complete contrast of the apathy Ziva knew was expressed on _her_ face.

Suddenly Abby moved, closing the space between them in two steps and throwing her arms around Ziva's neck, as she had felt the need to do every five minutes since _that_ day. Ziva barely managed to raise her arms enough to return the hug; it was a weak attempt. It was very likely Abby didn't notice.

"You should get ready," Ziva finally muttered, pulling away from Abby, who nodded as she rubbed her eyes.

"Right. Right. I'm going. Ziva, are you—"

Ziva escaped into her room, closing the door behind her before Abby could ask if she was okay.

_"There was a complication…the doctors did everything they could, but they…couldn't save him. He died earlier this morning."_

The words rang unforgivingly in her head as she found a hair tie, pulling her still damp hair back into its usual ponytail. Somehow she found herself looking into the mirror attached to the bureau. Empty, unemotional eyes stared back at her from glass. Ziva watched the mirror for a long time, taking in her reflection. The vacant eyes, the pale skin, the dark circles that were the only sign that anything was amiss in her life.

_"I'm not leaving you here alone," Gibbs said firmly, dropping a duffel bag on Ziva's lap. Ziva stared at the bag while Abby looked up at Gibbs through red-rimmed eyes. "You either Abby, we'll stop at your apartment to get clothes."_

_"Gibbs I do not need a babysitter," Ziva said, setting the bag aside._

_"I'm not giving you a choice here, David. Move it."_

_Ziva sighed, realizing how _not_ in the mood for an argument she was. Instead she detached herself from Abby, standing up, running a hand through her hair. She didn't see why Gibbs didn't want to leave _her_ alone. _She_ wasn't the one that had spent the last four hours sobbing hysterically. In fact, all things considered, she thought she was handling this fairly well. So why was _she_ being forced to relocate?_

_Crash!_

Abby and Gibbs both jumped as the sound of breaking glass echoed through the house. A moment later Ziva came down the stairs, looking composed as always.

"Ziva…?"

"What was that noise?" Gibbs asked flatly, looking over the woman with a critical eye. Ziva looked between the two of them before dropping her eyes to the floor.

"Nothing much. I owe you a mirror, Gibbs."

Gibbs was tempted to ask exactly what had happened. He decided he was better off not knowing.

"Time to go."

The ride to the cemetery was unsurprisingly quiet. Abby climbed into the back seat with Ziva, resting her head on her friend's shoulder and sniffing occasionally, trying hard not to cry. Ziva automatically took Abby's hand in her own, squeezing her fingers lightly. Gibbs watched the two of them in the rearview mirror, wishing there was something _— anything_ — he could do to make what they were about to do easier.

As if such a thing was possible.

McGee and Ducky were standing at the edge of the cemetery when Gibbs, Ziva, and Abby arrived. Abby instantly threw her arms around McGee's neck, hugging him tightly. McGee returned the hug, burying his face in her hair. Ducky rested a hand Ziva's shoulder, giving her a sympathetic glance that she hurriedly and pointedly ignored.

"Let's go."

They walked through the cemetery, Abby still clinging to McGee, who kept an arm around her shoulder the entire time. Ziva walked a little behind the group, making it impossible for them to continue shooting her the concerned glances she was so sick of receiving. In the middle of the cemetery, a small group had already gathered around a simple, light brown casket. Despite the fact that they were clearly the last to arrive, there was still room up front for them to sit.

Ziva barely noticed when the priest stood up and began speaking. She stared past him, past the casket containing Tony's body, past the headstones of those already passed. Random clips of what the priest was saying — _loyal, strong, an exemplary man_ — drifted into Ziva's ears. They sounded wrong. Not wrong as in Tony _wasn't_ all of those things. But wrong because they were coming from the mouth of a stranger, of a man who had probably met Tony before in his life. A stranger would not know how passionate Tony was about everything he did. A stranger would not know that behind Tony's ever-present humor was a solemn, serious man who would have gone to any end to help someone he cared about. A stranger would not know that Tony, for all his useless bluster, had been the damn strongest person Ziva had ever met.

No. A stranger wouldn't know any of this. How could a _stranger_ talk about Tony as if he'd known him?

Gibbs shifted his eyes to look Ziva, who was standing on his left. She didn't seem completely aware of the fact that she was even _at_ a funeral; she was staring past everything, her eyes distant, echoes of pain reflected in her mahogany orbs. It worried Gibbs, how distant Ziva had become since Tony's death. He knew at this point she would go one of two ways: either she snapped and broke down, unable to handle the strain of having to work so hard _not_ to care. Or she continued to distance herself from her emotions until she was completely lost to all of them.

Neither option was _good_. Gibbs almost preferred the first one to the second, though.

Damn it, when was this priest going to stop pretending he knew the first damn thing about what Tony was? Ziva was tired of listening to it. She was tired of this whole god damned charade. She wanted to go _home_, to her own apartment, away from the prying eyes of Gibbs, the sympathetic, tearful eyes of Abby. She wanted to just lock herself away in her apartment with a glass of wine and forget about this whole thing.

_"Whatcha doin', Zee-vah?"_

_Ziva looked up from her computer, smiling at Tony, who was leaning over the bullpen wall, trying to see Ziva's screen. "I miss the part where that was your business," she replied teasingly, closing the email screen she'd been typing in._

_"Writin' to Mr. Miami again?"_

_"Still not your business."_

_"Whatcha sayin' to him?" Ziva rolled her eyes, picking up a paperclip and throwing it at Tony's head. He could have easily dodged, but let hit instead so he could pretend to be wounded._

_"_Ooow_ Zee-vah, that really hurt."_

_"Do you want me to _actually_ hurt you?" Ziva threatened with a tolerant smile. Tony laughed._

_"I'll pass."_

Ziva swallowed hard as the unwarranted memory presented itself at the forefront of her mind. Tony's laughter, his voice saying _Zee-vah_ in its teasing way echoed in her ears, blocking out the voice of the priest. This was all she had now. The thought slammed into her like an eighteen wheeler. All she had were her memories of his laugh, his voice. His pretend threats, his flirting, his teasing…she would only ever hear it in her memories now. She would never see his smile, his all-knowing smirk, the way his bright green eyes sparkled when he teased her or pulled a particularly _good_ prank on McGee. She would never feel the warm brush of his fingers against her skin, would never feel his arm against hers as they stood side-by-side (closer than what was strictly necessary) in observation.

She would never see him again. Tony was dead. _Her_ Tony…was _dead_.

"_No_."

Abby and Gibbs, who were standing on Ziva's left right respectively, both looked quickly at the woman as the strangled word forced its way past her tightly pressed lips. She was still staring off into the distance, completely, _painfully_ oblivious to the tears working their way slowly down her cheeks.

"No," she whispered again, trembling visibly now. "No, no, _no_…"

Abby moved hesitantly to wrap her arms around Ziva; she jerked away, shaking her head slowly, her eyes wide and utterly horrified.

No. This wasn't happening. Tony was _not_ dead. He wasn't allowed to die, damn it!

"No…"

"I know, Ziva," Gibbs murmured, taking Ziva's hand in his and squeezing lightly. "I know."

"No. No, no, no…" The faultless whisper morphed into a whimper as Ziva repeated it over and over.

Tony was dead. He was _dead_.

"_No_…"

And, in front of her friends, colleagues, and assorted strangers, Ziva David broke, her knees giving out from beneath her and burying into the grass as she collapsed, doubling over as painful sobs wracked her body.

Dead. Tony DiNozzo…was dead.

* * *

**Author's Note:**So…what do you think, what do you think? I know Ziva goes pretty out of character, but that's just part of the story, unfortunately. I did my best, though, and I'd really like to keep going with this, so hopefully it generates enough interest. If the not-so-subtle-hint wasn't enough, review _please_! — Sam


	2. Black Balloon

_You know the lies they always told you  
__And the love you never knew  
__What's the things they never showed you  
__That swallow the light from the sun inside your room, yeah_

_Comin' down the world turned over  
__And angels fall without you there  
__And I go on as you get colder  
__Always someone there…_

* * *

_**Scene Two — Black Balloon**_

"Here's your damn pizza," Tyler Stevens growled, all but throwing the pizza box at Tony, who scrambled to catch it, laughing at how agitated his companion clearly was.

"Hey, hey! That's good pizza here, don't be disrespectin' it." Tony grinned as he opened the pizza box, the smell of his triple meat supreme wafting up towards him. "Ah…wanna slice?"

"After all the trouble I went through to get that thing, you're damn right I want a slice. Hand it over." Tony chuckled, handing a slice over to Tyler, who scowled at the younger agent before taking the offer.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was _real_ tough for you to drive into the city and go to the pizza place and—" Tony faked a gasp, "_order_ a pizza, and oh my god having to _wait_ for ten minutes—"

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that right?" Tyler asked as he took a bite of his slice. "I'm surprised David hasn't already kicked your ass to the moon and back, with the stories I've heard about her…"

Tony ignored the slight twinge he felt at the mention of Ziva. "Yeah man, I've gotten pretty lucky as far as she's concerned. She probably shoulda killed me a _long_ time ago. Her or Gibbs, _one_ of them should've offed me already."

"You guys got a strange team there, you know that right?"

"Whatever works," Tony replied with a shrug, sighing quietly as his thoughts turned to the team.

The two agents lapsed into silence, munching on the pizza. What Tyler was thinking, Tony didn't know or care. He was too busy with what was going on in his own head.

Gibbs. McGee. Ziva. Ducky. Abby. What were all of them thinking now?

_Tony groaned as the drugs that had been keeping him unconscious wore off, and he groggily dragged himself back to reality. He'd been shot. Oh _damn_. He'd been shot. Great. He was _never_ going to live this down._

_"Hello, Agent DiNozzo."_

_Tony shifted his blurry, unfocused eyes to look at the man standing in the door of his hospital room. "Director Vance." He laughed hoarsely. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

_"A man can't check on his agents after they've been shot?" Tony snorted._

_"If anything I would expect Gibbs here before you."_

_"Oh Gibbs was here. It's late though, he's probably exhausted. If David's anything like her father, it's damn tiring work trying to convince her to do something when she has her mind set on doing the exact opposite." Vance moved further into the room, and Tony saw for the first time that another, slightly older man with graying brown hair was with the director. "Agent DiNozzo this is Special Agent Harry Conrad. I'm sure you at least know of him." Tony wracked his brain for a moment, thinking. Harry Conrad. Tony was pretty sure he was the leader of another NCIS team._

_"Agent DiNozzo." Agent Conrad nodded curtly at the younger man._

_"Agent Conrad." Tony nodded back, then turned his eyes to the director. "So I'm guessing this isn't just a social call."_

_"Unfortunately, DiNozzo, you guessed right. Agent Conrad, would you like to explain?"_

_Conrad nodded before launching into his explanation. "For the last four years my team and I have been pursuing a drug ring within a nearby military base. We've caught plenty of peddlers, but to this day we haven't been able to trace it back to the main dealer."_

_"And…_what_ does this have to do with me?"_

_"I'm getting to that part. You and your team had the unfortunate luck of getting involved in the investigation of the death of a marine we believe was involved in the ring."_

_"Sucks to be us."_

_"You can say that again. We've identified that the man that shot you — the man Agent David was, thankfully, able to detain — was a member of the ring. He's in custody now, and we'll be taking over the investigation."_

_"Great. And the reason you're explaining this to me and not Gibbs is…?"_

_"Well…this is the part where things get tricky. By now it will already have gotten back to the leader of the ring that one of his men is in custody, and that he shot an NCIS agent. Your team will be watched now, they'll want to know if anyone is digging, trying to find out more about their activities."_

_"You're saying we're in danger now."_

_"As long as no more digging is done, then no, you'll all be fine." Conrad seemed assured of this. Tony still wasn't sure where this was going. "In the meantime though, there's also this matter of you being shot."_

_"It's certainly a matter," Tony joked weakly. Conrad didn't seem to find him amusing._

_"It would be…a problem for them if they were to kill an NCIS agent."_

_Tony blinked as he deciphered the cryptic sentence in his head. "You're…going to kill me?"_

_"So to speak."_

And that was the plan. Have Tony pretend to be dead. Let the news get back to the dealer. Hope this news upset the balance and the dealer revealed himself to the mole they had working within the ring. And at the same time, it was ensuring that Gibbs and his team would be taken off the case, no questions asked, and they would be safe. No one would be out for revenge; Ziva had already taken down the guy that had shot him. Everyone would be safe.

And Tony would be dead to all of them.

It wasn't a great plan. Not as far as Tony was concerned, at any rate. He hated being dead. He hated not being able to go to work, he actually _missed_ Gibbs slapping him, he missed tormenting McGee, missed Abby's hugs and Ducky's ramblings. And _god_ did he miss Ziva. Not any particular thing, just Ziva in general.

He really wanted to go home.

* * *

Ziva groaned as reality slowly, painfully reasserted itself. She sat up slowly, head spinning a bit, and looked around. She was back in her designated room at Gibbs' house.

"Ziva?" The Israeli woman shifted her eyes to look at Abby, who was standing in the door, hands wrapped tightly around a steaming mug. "Hey," she whispered, shuffling into the room. She hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the edge of Ziva's bed, holding the mug out to her friend. "It's tea. I wasn't really sure how you'd feel when you woke up, you've never mentioned ever using sleeping pills before, I didn't know if they'd make you sick or something…"

Ziva cursed silently as Abby's voice drifted off. Sleeping pills. She hadn't _touched_ the damn things since Somalia. She'd hoped she would never have to again. "So…how are you?" Abby finally asked, setting the mug aside when she realized Ziva wasn't going to take it. Ziva assessed herself for a moment. Other than the customary dizziness that always came with her taking sleeping pills, she was willing to go with saying she was fairly all right.

And she would have said that…except the memories of the funeral were beginning to reassert themselves at the forefront of her mind. The funeral. _Tony's_ funeral. Oh god.

Ziva groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Ziva?" Abby questioned, resting a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

It took Ziva a minute to figure out how to answer the question. "Yesterday…oh my god, what _happened_?"

Abby didn't answer, choosing instead to re-position herself so she was sitting next to Ziva, wrapping both arms tightly around her friend's slim form. "Nobody thinks any less of you," she said after a moment, realizing the hug alone wouldn't be enough. "Don't think anyone does."

"If no one thought I was insane before they certainly do _now_," Ziva responded in a mumble, running a hand through her hair. Abby made a noise of disagreement.

"Nobody thinks you're insane, Ziva. Then or now." Ziva choked out a very hollow laugh. Tony didn't call her the _crazy_ ninja assassin chick for nothing…

_Hadn't_. Tony _hadn't_ called her that for nothing. He would never call her it again now. "Everyone understands, Ziva. It's natural."

"Natural. Right. Abby I did not see anybody _else_ breaking down and sobbing like a three-year-old." Ziva paused for a moment before adding, "Not even you."

"Time and a place," Abby said simply. "I did my breaking down when I first heard. And before the funeral. And after, when you were taken care of. And five minutes ago, before I came to check on you." Now that Ziva looked closely, she _did_ see that Abby's eyes were slightly red, and just a little watery.

"Time and a place," she repeated in a murmur. Abby nodded encouragingly, clearly thinking she'd gotten through to Ziva, until she continued. "And his funeral was probably _neither_ of those things, was it?" Abby hesitated long enough that Ziva knew she wasn't wrong in her assumptions. "I should go," she said abruptly, pulling away from Abby and pushing the blankets away, stumbling up. Her legs shook for a moment when she put her weight on them. "How long was I asleep for?"

"Um…about eighteen hours. Guess you needed the sleep, huh?"

Ziva chose not to respond to that, instead grabbing her duffel bag, digging through it to find a change of clothes. The mirror she'd whipped her hairbrush at the day before had been removed. "Where are you going?" Abby asked as she stood up, watching Ziva search for clothes.

"Home. I am tired of taking up Gibbs' guest room and being treated like I need a babysitter."

"Gibbs was just worried about you, Ziva. He still is. Do you really think he's going to let you leave?" Ziva didn't answer, choosing instead to focus on dressing. Abby sat back down on the bed, crossing her legs and taking a sip of the now lukewarm tea. "This isn't going to go away," she said after a moment. Ziva stopped in the process of putting her shirt on, looking over her shoulder at Abby, who was regarding her friend with a solemn stare.

"Sorry?"

"What happened at the funeral, it was a sign. Clearly you're _not_ okay. If you keep trying to act like you are you're just going to break down again. You have to deal with it. Don't walk away."

Ziva hesitated for a moment before finishing the act of putting her shirt on and collapsing back onto the bed, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands. She didn't _want_ to deal with this. She wanted to bury it, push it as far back in her mind as it would go, back with Somalia and Ari and Tali…she wanted to be allowed to forget. To ignore the overwhelming feelings that threatened to take control. Feelings she couldn't _allow_ to take control.

She had to be able to walk away.

Abby crawled over to Ziva, wrapping her in an awkward hug from behind and resting her cheek against Ziva's back.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now," she said quietly, ignoring the tears that threatened to spill over. Tears weren't going to help Ziva now. "But it _is_ going to be okay Ziva. _You'll_ be okay. I know you will be."

Ziva knew as well that she would be. As long as she stayed in control.

* * *

"You're kidding, right?" Gibbs asked, looking down at the personnel file Vance had handed him.

"A week is an appropriate amount of time for mourning, isn't it?" If ever there was a time Gibbs just wanted to punch the director in the face, it was now. A week wasn't enough time for _crap_, certainly not mourning. "I know you, Gibbs, you'll want to put replacing DiNozzo off. It's not like he's coming back though. You'll have to replace him eventually."

"Eventually. Not today though." Not this soon after the funeral. Not after Ziva had disappeared for the weekend, not answering her cell-phone or responding when someone knocked on her door. Not when she'd come in to the office that morning looking like hell warmed over; whatever she had been doing that weekend, it certainly hadn't been sleeping or taking care of herself.

"Well Agent Timmons is on his way in as we speak, so I guess it will _have_ to be today."

If looks could have killed, NCIS would have lost another director. Gibbs threw the personnel file down on the desk and walked out of the office as calmly as he could manage under the circumstances — not very.

McGee's fingers flew over his keyboard as his eyes shifted occasionally to the woman sitting at the desk across the bullpen. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was hanging loosely and chaotically around her face. If she noticed McGee watching her, she gave no indication, choosing instead to focus her attention on her own computer.

McGee wished he could get the image of her sobbing on the grassy ground out of his mind.

_Ding!_

Two heads moved as one to look at the man who was stepping off the elevator. He was tall, at least six feet, his blonde hair buzzed short, his eyes blue and icy. McGee and Ziva followed his movements as he walked into the bullpen. He stopped in front of Ziva's desk, looking down at her and giving her the distinct feeling she was being judged — badly.

"I'm looking for Agent Gibbs, is he around?"

"He is with the director," Ziva responded with a tone cold enough to match the man's. "Is there anything _we_ can help you with?"

The man chuckled before turning away. "Don't think so, sweetheart." Ziva narrowed her eyes as he walked over to Tony's desk, dropping his bag and sitting down in Tony's chair.

"That desk is taken."

"Dead men don't usually need a desk."

The man was very lucky Gibbs chose that moment to walk out of the director's office. Ziva forced herself to look back at her computer screen, her fingers slamming the keyboard with more force than what was strictly necessary. McGee refrained from telling her to take it easy. He didn't have a death wish.

"Agent Timmons?" Gibbs questioned the newcomer as he walked into the bullpen. McGee and Ziva looked quickly at their boss, then back at the man, who nodded as he stood, crossing the bullpen and holding a hand out to Gibbs that the older man didn't bother to shake. "McGee, Ziva, meet Agent James Timmons. Our new…_team member_." Gibbs knew, without looking at either of his agents, that his words were met with dropped mouths and looks of disgust. "Agent Timmons, meet Agents Timothy McGee and Ziva David. I trust you'll all get along."

With that he headed towards the elevator. Ziva jumped up, shooting a glare at Timmons and saying, "Stay away from that desk," before running after Gibbs. She caught up to him just as the elevator door closed. Gibbs seemed to have been expecting her to follow; his finger was resting on the emergency switch. He flipped it as soon as the doors closed.

"I don't like it either," Gibbs said before Ziva could say anything. Not that she was sure what she would say. "I've been arguing with Vance for the last ten minutes to try and get us out of this, but we're stuck with the guy." He waited while Ziva absorbed this information, the slight spark of rebellion fading from her tired eyes. "No argument?"

"What can I say?" Ziva retorted quietly. "I knew…Tony would have to be replaced, this is not a shock to me."

"And yet it is."

Ziva shifted her eyes to look at the elevator floor. "I was not expecting it this soon. Not that it is really soon, a week is more than enough time, yes?" Gibbs didn't answer. After a moment Ziva raised her eyes again to look at him. "Is this how everyone felt when I came to replace Kate?" Again, no answer. "No wonder you all hated me."

"No one hated you Ziva."

She laughed hollowly. "Right." And with that she reached past Gibbs, flipping the emergency switch; the elevator shuddered to life, heading back up. Gibbs knew better than to break the silence, to ask if Ziva would be okay.

Because he had a bad feeling she wouldn't be.

James Timmons had made his home at Tony's desk when Ziva walked back into the bullpen. She stopped in front of the desk, glaring down at Timmons, who looked up at her with a slight smirk.

"Can I help you sweetheart?" He asked, his voice overly condescending. Ziva resisted the urge to punch him. Not yet. Not until she was ready to risk or job, or Gibbs fired him.

"My _name_ is Ziva David," she snapped, her fingers balling into fists. "_You_ will call me Agent David and nothing else. You are here to do a job so _do it_, without any smart-ass cracks, and maybe we can all get through the day without killing one another."

If Timmons knew _anything_ about Ziva — anything at all — he would have had his resignation written and handed in before she'd finish speaking. McGee was certainly afraid, and _he_ wasn't even the one her anger was directed at. But Timmons simply chuckled as he turned on Tony's computer, waiting for it to boot up. "Easy there sweetheart. There's no reason why we can't all get along, right?"

"Ziva," McGee said quickly, recognizing the dangerous glint in the Israeli's eyes. She glared at Timmons for a long time before turning on her heel and storming back to her desk.

This wasn't going to work, she realized as she sat down, gritting her teeth together and glaring knives at the man who had taken Tony's desk. She had spent five minutes with Timmons, and already she wanted to kill him. How in the world was she supposed to _work_ with him?

It wasn't going to end well.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I'm well aware that this isn't an entirely realistic situation. But it's called fanfiction, after all, so I'm taking a few liberties. And…review please? I'd really, _really_ like a little more feedback — Sam


	3. Wreck of the Day

_Driving away from the wreck of the day  
__And the light's always red in the rear-view  
__Desperately close to a coffin of hope  
__I'd cheat destiny just to be near you  
__If this is giving up, well I'm giving up  
__If this is giving up, well I'm giving up, giving up  
__On love_

* * *

_**Scene Three — Wreck of the Day**_

"Dead marine, grab your gear."

Gibbs' voice carried across the bullpen, rousing a reaction from two of his three agents. McGee and Ziva were out of their chairs before Gibbs had finished speaking, grabbing their bags and heading towards the elevator. Timmons moved more slowly, earning himself a glare.

"Move it Timmons, we've got a job to do," Gibbs snapped while McGee and Ziva stopped to give Timmons small glares of their own. He threw the truck keys to Ziva, who caught them with a look of faint surprise. "Might as well get him used to you sooner rather than later, right?" He said as he walked past Ziva and McGee.

The ride to the crime scene was as uneventful as _any_ ride that involved Ziva driving could ever be. On the upside, she only almost crashed twice, a new record for her. On the downside, Timmons had a whole slew of insults ready when he climbed out of the back of the truck once they arrived at the crime scene.

"Who the hell taught you to drive woman? Have you ever even _heard_ of a brake pedal? Or is the idea of having to _move_ your foot while you're driving too much for your brain to handle? Is the idea of multi-tasking too _scary_ for you—"

Gibbs caught Ziva's arm as he walked past her, effectively holding her back. "Agent Timmons, perimeter, McGee talk to the witnesses, Ziva, photos and sketches." He handed Ziva the camera. "Go."

Ducky and Palmer exchanged concerned glances when Ziva walked into the house, clutching the camera so tightly they were surprised she didn't break it.

"I take it all is _not_ well with the new agent?" Ducky asked hesitantly as Ziva began taking pictures. He expected a rant, a few foreign swears, and maybe something getting kicked.

He was surprised when he received none of that.

"I am sure with time I will adjust to…Agent Timmons and his…_attitude,_" she said through clenched teeth. "It is just a matter of getting used to change, yes?"

Ducky blinked, staring at Ziva for a long moment before returning his attention to the body they were there for. "Change is always hard to get used to, it's true. I'm sure with time…you and Agent Timmons will learn to get along."

Ziva made a noise of contempt in the back of her throat. "I will get _used_ to him. I will _never_ get along with him."

McGee was surprised when Ziva gave him the keys to drive the truck back. Timmons complained loudly about having to sit in the back, but Ziva had climbed into the passenger's seat before he could take it.

"How about letting me drive?" Timmons tried to reason with McGee. "Come on," he added when McGee hesitated, "I can't be any worse than the Israeli Wonder, can I?"

Ziva closed her eyes, pulling her hat down low over her eyes and silently counting backwards from ten. As if that would calm her down. "Don't let him get to you," McGee mumbled as he climbed into the driver's seat. "Sure you don't want to drive?"

"Just go, McGee."

* * *

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Timmons asked as he set his phone down. Ziva resisted the urge to take her stapler and throw it as hard as she could at Timmons head.

"Agent Timmons for the _last time_ my name is _Agent David_. Not _sweetheart_, not _woman_, not _Israeli Wonder_. How hard is it for _your_ brain to register two simple words: _Ay-gent Dah-veed_. You got that?"

Timmons smirked a bit as he began typing something. "Whatever you say sweetheart."

Before Ziva could break something (preferably Timmons' neck), her cell-phone buzzed. She grabbed, it flipping it open and putting it to her ear. "David," she all but growled into the speaker.

"_Whatever you're mad about, it's not my fault_," was Gibbs' flat answer. "_Grab Timmons and get yourselves down to Abby's lab, she and McGee found something_."

"Right." Ziva flipped her phone shut and stood up, throwing it haphazardly onto her desk. "Agent Gibbs wants us down in Ms. Sciuto's lab," she informed Timmons stiffly.

"Then _why_ doesn't Agent Gibbs call me himself?"

"Because it is more convenient to call _one_ agent and have them pass on the message. If you really have a problem listening to me though I can call Gibbs and inform him that you would like to receive a phone call as well next time he wants _both_ of us do something. In the meantime though, we should go see what Ms. Sciuto found, yes?"

Timmons glared briefly at Ziva before standing up and following her to the elevator. The ride to Abby's lab was silent and filled with tension. Ziva spent most of it resisting the urge to punch Timmons in the mouth.

Abby was laughing about something when Ziva and Timmons walked into the lab. The laughter died almost instantly, as if the happy sound was somehow hardwired to whether or not the arrogant man was in the room.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva asked, looking around and noticing the older man's lack of presence.

"Down in autopsy, he'll be here in a minute." Abby looked between Ziva and Timmons before lowering her voice so only the former could hear. "Not soon enough either, from what McGee's told me the only time this guy shuts up is when Gibbs around."

"Unfortunately that is correct."

Abby scowled at Timmons before putting on a sympathetic gaze for Ziva. "How are you?"

Gibbs walked in before Ziva could answer. "All right Abby, let's hear it. You guys had a break through?"

"Yeah, we were going through the laptop you found in the victim's apartment…"

Ziva barely heard a word Abby said, something she was sure she would regret later when it became vital to the crime. All she could think about, though, was the man standing on her left. Standing where _Tony_ should have been. But he would never be there again. He would never make another wisecrack, never tease Ziva when she messed up a simple idiom, never mock McGee when he got caught up in his computer babble…

Abby found herself watching Ziva as McGee took over the explanation. The woman was staring at the computer screen, her eyes distant; clearly she wasn't seeing or hearing what they were talking about. Abby pressed her lips together, worried. The last thing Ziva would want would be to break down in the middle of work — and in front of _Timmons_, of all people.

"Well, all right then," Gibbs said as he handed over Abby's Caf-Pow. "Ziva, take Timmons and follow this up." He started to walk away, pausing when he realized he hadn't gotten a confirmation from Ziva. He stopped and looked back at her, taking in her distant stare and realizing that wherever her mind was, it wasn't on this case. "Ziva, hey. _Ziva_."

He rested a hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly, and she jumped. "Sorry, what?"

"Lead. Timmons. Go."

"Right. Sorry, Gibbs."

"Don't apologize," Gibbs said, patting Ziva's shoulder before he left. Ziva turned to Abby, who scribbled down the address they needed and handing it to Ziva, who pocketed it and started to leave as well.

"Maybe you best let me drive this time, sweetheart," Timmons said as he followed Ziva out. "You're dangerous enough behind the wheel, I shudder to think what would happen if your mind wasn't with the task."

Abby and McGee stayed silent until they heard the elevator ding. "Fifty bucks she kills him before the end of this case," McGee said finally.

"End of this _case_? Try end of the _day_, Tim."

McGee wouldn't have been surprised.

* * *

Walking into Observation was almost painful for McGee. The tension between Timmons and Ziva was so thick, he literally could have cut it with a knife. He knew the capture of the suspect currently sitting in interrogation hadn't gone smoothly.

"What kind of _federal agent_ freezes when they hear a gun?" Timmons asked as Gibbs walked into interrogation. "Guess all those rumors about you being a former assassin were a lie, huh? Have you ever even _fired_ a gun?"

"Agent Timmons if you do not _shut up_ you will find out just how adept I am with a gun," Ziva snapped, losing her patience. "And a knife. And whatever other object I can get my hand on that I think will do you bodily harm."

It was a real threat and McGee knew it. Timmons just laughed it off though, turning his attention back to the interrogation.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Ziva swore loudly in Hebrew (startling the poor technician in the corner) before half-yelling, "_Stop_ calling me sweetheart!"

McGee took a step back, wondering if he should get Gibbs. Would it be worth his life to interrupt the interrogation?

"Easy there girly," Timmons said with a chuckle. "Did your petty threats work on Agent DiNozzo? What a weakling, no wonder he's dead—"

The next few moments were a blur to McGee. All he knew was that one second Timmons was standing next to Ziva, taunting her mercilessly, and the next there was a loud thud as Ziva threw him against the observation window, one set of fingers wrapping themselves around his throat.

"Now you _listen_ to me, _Agent Timmons_. I will put up with a god damn _lot_ from you, but the _moment_ you begin insulting Agent DiNozzo—"

"What the _hell_ is going on in here?" Gibbs hollered as he stormed into the observation room. He froze at the sight before him. Timmons coughed and sputtered, clearly gasping for air. "Ziva! Let him _go_."

Ziva hesitated for a moment before grabbing Timmons' shirt and shoving him away from her; he slammed into the wall and slid down it, choking as air rushed back into his lungs. Ziva, in turn, was breathing heavily, murderous intent clear in her eyes.

"McGee finish the interrogation," Gibbs began doling out orders. "You," he focused his icy glare on Timmons, "I want your trash packed and out of my bullpen before I come back. Ziva, with me." He turned to leave, stopping when he realized Ziva was still glaring down at Timmons. "_Agent David_! Move. Now."

Ziva turned away at last, stalking past Gibbs, out of Observation and down the hall. Gibbs nodded to McGee, threw one last glare at Timmons, then took off after Ziva.

"Ziva, _hey_!" He caught up to her at the elevator, grabbing her arm and then grabbing her wrist when she turned, automatically swinging her fist out. "You really wanna get into a fist fight with me, David?"

He lowered her arm back to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. She was still breathing rather heavily, and clearly looking for a fight.

"He deserved it."

"Not saying he didn't. Doesn't mean you get to go ninja on his ass though."

"You did not hear him, he was—!" Ziva cut herself off mid-sentence as she realized how stupid what she was about to say would sound.

"He was what?" Gibbs prompted in a surprisingly gentle. Ziva jerked her shoulder out of his touch, turning away from him and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Ziva, if whatever is going on in your head is going to start effecting your work—"

"It will not affect my work," Ziva interrupted harshly. "Just…get rid of Timmons. Whoever you get to replace him, I promise, I will get along with him. Just _get rid of Timmons_."

"Already done Ziva. Why do I get the feeling, though, that you're not going to like _anybody_ who comes in to replace DiNozzo?" Ziva didn't answer, choosing instead to press her lips tightly together at the mention of Tony's name. "What happened in there?"

_"Did your petty threats work on Agent DiNozzo? What a weakling, no wonder he's dead—"_

"He was…insulting Tony," Ziva finally mumbled, her cheeks heating up a bit as she realized that the words sounded just as stupid out-loud as they did in her head. "I told him to stop calling me _sweetheart_, I was sick of hearing it, and he asked me if my _petty threats_ worked on Tony…he called Tony weak, Gibbs. He said _that_ was why Tony was dead. I just…I snapped, Gibbs. I suppose it was wrong, but I…I could not just stand there and let him _insult_ Tony, it would have been wrong…"

"I didn't say I blamed you," Gibbs assured his agent as her voice drifted off. "You can't snap on every agent that comes through here though."

"I know. And I will not, I swear. But I…I…" She shook her head slowly, closing her eyes. "Timmons is an _ass_ Gibbs. He does not work well with us at all. It would only have been a matter of time before something happened, I did us a favor."

Gibbs certainly wasn't going to deny that. Before he could say anything though, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, flipping it open and putting it to his ear.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

It was Vance. Never a good thing.

Timmons was waiting with the director when Ziva and Gibbs walked into the bullpen. Already they could see bruises forming on Timmons' neck.

"Thought I told you to get out of here," Gibbs said when he saw Timmons, forcing himself not to smirk at the sight of the bruises.

"That crazy psycho bitch attacks me, and you think I'm just going to let it go?" Timmons snarled, glaring at Ziva, who stared back icily.

"Would you like me to finish what I started?"

"Agent David," Vance rebuked the woman harshly before turning to look at Gibbs. They needed to talk in private, that much was obvious, but leaving Ziva alone with Timmons was _clearly_ a bad idea.

"Ziva, take the rest of the day, go home."

"I do not want to—"

"Wasn't a suggestion. Go."

They waited until Ziva was behind the closed doors of the elevator before retreating into Vance's office. "Is David going to attack _all_ of DiNozzo's replacements?"

"She swears she won't. Says she was provoked."

"She woulda killed the man if you hadn't interrupted, Gibbs." Vance shook his head slowly. "Listen I'm as aware as anyone of David's background, it doesn't exactly contribute to mental stability. She's never given me any reason to be concerned though. So tell me, do you think I should be concerned _now_?"

Gibbs didn't hesitate to shake his head. "She's not unstable, if that's what you're asking. She's just having a hard time right now. She needs a chance to deal with this and move on. With_out_ a smart ass agent giving her a hard time. Timmons was a bad fit for our team, you have to admit that much."

Yes. Yes Vance did. "Fine. I'll give you all a couple more weeks to yourselves before we find another replacement. And in the meantime, I have to try and convince Timmons not to sue."

"Good luck selling that," Gibbs said with a chuckle as he left. Vance looked down at his desk, twirling a pen between his fingers. He'd known this DiNozzo being dead thing would be hard.

He hadn't imagined it would do this much damage to Ziva though.

* * *

Ziva was still fuming when she stormed into her apartment. For a moment she considered finding the bottle of wine she'd bought a couple weeks earlier — why had she bought that again? She couldn't remember. Alcohol sounded good right about now though…

Then she realized she was shaking, her hands trembling violently. She wasn't going to be able to pour a glass of anything without spilling it. Fine. Beer then. Damn it, she didn't have any beer. Tony had finished the last of it when he had come over that night…the night before he died.

Ziva curled her fingers into fists, trying to control herself as she yanked her jacket off, tossing it onto the couch and going into the kitchen, mostly to give herself something to do. It was useless, really; she wasn't hungry, and the only thing she wanted to drink was alcohol, which probably wasn't good, but hell, it wasn't like she had anywhere to be.

Well fine then. Ziva yanked her cabinet open, pulling out a wine glass and finding the bottle in the very back. Her hands were still shaking as she uncorked it, pouring the richly colored liquid with a surprising amount of accuracy.

She was okay. She could do this. She was okay.

_"Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?...You can't get rid of me that easily anyways."_

"Liar," Ziva mumbled as she set the wine bottle down. Despite the need for alcohol, she didn't move to take a sip of what she had poured.

_"You can't get rid of me that easily_…_"_

"Liar!"

And suddenly the glass of wine was being hurled against the wall opposite where Ziva was standing. The fine glass collided with the plaster wall with a loud crash before falling down and breaking into smaller pieces against the linoleum. Ziva stared at the wall, at the stain of wine marring the perfect white.

_The jagged bullet hole glared up at her dead center in Tony's chest, accented by the muddy stain of blood painted across his formerly gray jacket…_

Overwhelming nausea threatened to bring Ziva to her knees. She ran from the kitchen as quickly as her shaking legs would allow, unable to stand looking at the stain that reminded her too much of blood.

_Tony's_ blood.

"Idiot," she spoke aloud, though who she was talking to she wasn't quite sure. Saying the one, anger-filled word to the empty room was easier than dealing with the tears stinging her eyes. She looked around the living room, trying to find something, anything to focus her anger on. Trying to save herself from having to face the other things she was feeling. The things she couldn't identify.

Damn, stupid Tony. He just _had_ to go and save her, didn't he, just _had_ to die. What the hell had he been thinking? She would have been able to duck in time to miss the bullet, there was no _reason _for him to push her out of the way, she would have been _fine _without him. Had he been thinking _at all_?

"Fuck you, Tony," she whispered, unable to force herself to speak any louder.

He went and made the stupid decision. And now _she_ was suffering for it.

"Fuck you!"

And suddenly she was kicking the coffee table, sending it and everything on top of it flying and crashing to the floor; the sound of a ceramic coffee mug breaking mingled with the crash that accompanied the table forcefully reuniting with the floor.

Who the hell did he think he was? Leaving _her_ with the consequences of _his_ god damned decisions, _who did he think he was_? Ziva was gripped with the sudden need to break something. The sound of the wine glass and the coffee mug breaking reverberated in her ears. It was something she wanted to hear more of. But what could she break? She didn't want to senselessly break any more of her glasses or mugs. She wanted to gain some kind of satisfaction from it.

She wanted to break something that reminded her of _him_.

_A pair of arms grabbed Ziva from behind, making her jump. "Quick, Abby, take a picture!" Tony called with a laugh as he held Ziva tightly against his chest._

_"Tony!"_

_"Smile Ziva!" Abby chirped as she held her camera up. Ziva rolled her eyes as she did as she was told, putting on a tolerant smile. "Ohhh, that one's cute! You guys would make such a great couple…"_

_"Rule number twelve," Ziva, Tony, and Gibbs (who had appeared out of nowhere) said at the same time. Abby rolled her eyes._

_"Whatever."_

McGee's Fourth of July barbeque. _That_ picture. Abby had given her a copy of it for her last birthday, contained in a beautiful frame.

Perfect.

Ziva practically _ran_ into her room, not bothering to avoid stepping on the ceramic pieces littering the floor. She found the picture where it always was, sitting on her bedside table where it could watch over her as she slept. She grabbed the picture, completely prepared to throw it as hard as she could at the wall.

She wasn't sure what made her stop. What made her look down at the photo she planned on destroying. But her eyes dodged down to the picture for half a second. Just long enough for her to see his face, to take in his features.

Long enough to make her freeze.

Abby was right. They _did_ look like a couple. Not only did Tony have his arms around Ziva's waist, holding her protectively, but _Ziva_ had raised her arms to rest against Tony's, relaxing in his grip, resting her head against his chest, and her tolerant smile didn't look so tolerant. _Damn it_ did they look like a couple.

Suddenly the tears were falling, slipping down Ziva's cheeks and onto the glass, sliding down and leaving streaks that looked so wrong against the happy moment the photo depicted. Ziva tried to move, to sit on her bed, but her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, hugging the photo to her chest and crying in earnest now.

_"Happy birthday Ziva!" Abby chirped, throwing her arms around Ziva's neck and hugging her tightly._

_"Ow…thank you Abby…"_

_"Hang on, I have stuff for you." And with that Abby disappeared into her office, re-emerging before Ziva even had time to blink. She was holding a Tupperware container filled with cupcakes and a small, gift-wrapped rectangle. "Happy birthday!" She said again, smiling widely._

_"Abby you did not have to trouble yourself—"_

_"No trouble," Abby promised, holding the gift out. "Come on, open it!"_

_Ziva smiled as she obediently unwrapped the present. She probably shouldn't have been surprised when she found the picture from the barbeque underneath the wrapping._

_"_Abby_—"  
_

_"But Abby just grinned. "Pretend for a day that rule twelve doesn't exist."_

_How perfect that would have been. Ziva smiled at the picture, wishing, for just a moment, that it could be real._

_"Happy birthday Ziva."_

It was a long time before Ziva could pull herself off the floor. But the urge to get _out_ of her apartment was overwhelming, and finally she gave in and stumbled up, her trembling fingers still gripping the photo tightly. She grabbed the still somewhat packed duffel bag that had accompanied her to Gibbs' house and began re-packing it.

Twenty minutes and one car ride that she didn't remember later, Ziva was picking locking her way into Tony's apartment.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Timmons was never meant to be a drawn-out thing. Clearly. Review please? If you must point out how OOC Ziva was, fine...but be gentle? — Sam


	4. Fix You

_When you try your best, but you don't succeed  
__When you get what you want, but not what you need  
__When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
__Stuck in reverse_

_And the tears come streaming down your face  
__When you lose something you can't replace  
__When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
__Could it be worse?_

* * *

_**Scene Four — Fix You**_

Gibbs was not surprised — though he probably should have been — when he walked into the bullpen one morning a few days after the incident with Timmons and saw Ziva sitting at Tony's desk. No more than McGee had been surprised when Ziva had walked in earlier that same morning and half-asked, half-begged him to help her transfer her files to Tony's computer. Nobody questioned her or made her move.

Vance didn't try again to replace Tony. McGee and Ziva were forced to work overtime to pick up the slack of not having a third person. Neither of them complained. When their latest case was solved, Gibbs made it a point to send Ziva and McGee home at a decent hour, more for the former's benefit than the latter's. He was tempted to force Ziva to take time off and deal with her head space. It just wasn't possible.

That didn't make it any easier for him to watch her though.

Ziva moved into Tony's apartment. She had even found a spare key in the kitchen drawer so she wouldn't have to break in every time. It was stupid, she knew, and illogical. She would accomplish _nothing_ by living in a dead man's apartment; It certainly wasn't helping her move on. But the brief moments she spent in her own apartment, getting clothes or books, caused more pain than she could stand. She couldn't even stay long enough to clean up the destruction she had caused.

She laid in Tony's bed night after night, surrounded by his scent. She sat up late watching his favorite movies, the ones he'd quoted most often. She sat at the kitchen table, reading and re-reading a Post-It note she'd found on a case of beer in the fridge; written on it in Tony's messy scrawl: _Give to Ziva_.

She barely noticed she was losing herself.

"Dead petty officer, grab your gear."

Ziva and McGee responded automatically, Ziva getting slightly turned around in the process of leaving her new self-designated desk. Gibbs watched her with a critical eye, wondering if it was really okay to let her go onto the field.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.

McGee drove the truck, keeping a close eye on Ziva, who pointedly ignored him. He wasn't any more oblivious than anyone else to the noticeable change in Ziva. He was worried, of course. But what could he say? Nothing was going to fix this.

Ziva stumbled slightly when she jumped down from the truck; she grabbed the door to keep herself steady. It had been almost a week since she had gotten more than an hour's sleep. It had been closer to two weeks since she had gotten a good night's sleep at all.

"McGee, perimeter. Ziva, photos and bag and tag." Ziva nodded silently, taking the camera and heading inside, trying to ignore the slight dizziness on the edge of her consciousness. She worked silently, taking photos and bagging evidence.

"Hello Ziva," Ducky said as cheerfully as the circumstances would allow as he walked into the living room. "How are you, m'dear?"

"I am better than this petty officer." Ducky chuckled as he knelt down, pulling his liver probe out of his bag. "Where is Mr. Palmer?"

"Dealing with a medical emergency of some kind. He was not very clear on the phone, I'm afraid." A pause as Ducky consulted the probe. "Hmn…I would put time of death at approximately ten hours ago. No outward signs of injury other than these bruises around his neck. I'll have to do a more thorough examination of course, but my best guess is that they occurred peri-mortem. It look as if he was choked with a rope or chord of some kind."

"Well the murderer must have taken it with him then, because I have not found anything like that," Ziva said as she kneeled down beside Ducky, snapping a picture of the victim's neck. "Or it is somewhere else in the house. I will probably end up looking for it when I am done in here."

"And Timothy is working the perimeter. There's a lot to do for only two agents, isn't there?"

Ziva's lips moved soundlessly for a moment before she finally managed to say, "Director Vance will probably be finding a replacement for Agent Timmons within the next week." The idea repulsed her more than she was able to say. She'd promised to be on her best behavior with the new replacement, after all.

"Yes, well, look at it this way — he can't be any worse than Agent Timmons, right?" That man had _not_ been well-liked by anybody.

"But he will not be Tony."

"No," Ducky agreed, his voice heavy. "I'm afraid we will never find another Tony. He was one of a kind."

Ziva made a noise in the back of her throat and stood up quickly, trying to escape from this conversation. Almost instantly an overwhelming, burning blackness engulfed her vision, coming from the back of her eyes and causing her to stumble forward; she reached quickly for something to grab and finding Ducky's shoulder.

Ducky looked up, surprised, when he felt Ziva's hand rest against his shoulder. His surprise turned to concern and alarm when he saw the state the woman was in; her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her already pale face now paper-white. Her breathing was shallow, and Ducky could feel her trembling where her hand touched his shoulder.

"Ziva!"

Ducky took Ziva's hand to hold her steady as he stood up, resting both his hands against her shoulders and guiding her over to the wall, leaning her against it, carefully easing her hat off her head when he realized she was sweating.

"Ziva dear, breathe, it's okay, just breathe…"

After a moment Ziva blinked, her vision slowly clearing. She swallowed a couple times, drawing in a deep breath before focusing her glassy eyes on the man standing next to her. "D-Ducky," she stuttered finally, raising a hand to rub her eyes.

"What happened?"

Before Ziva could answer, Gibbs walked in. He took one look at Ziva, and demanded to know the exact same thing. "Nothing, nothing," Ziva mumbled quickly, taking her hat from Ducky and putting it back on, ducking her head and using the rim to hide her face. Ducky and Gibbs exchanged looks before Ducky went back to examining the body. Gibbs took Ducky's place next to Ziva, resting a hand on the woman's shoulder to keep her from walking away.

"Gibbs—"

He silenced her with a stare. "Do I need you to send you home, David?"

"Of course not," Ziva said at once, pleased that she managed to get a little bit of strength into her voice. "I stood up too quickly the blood rushed to my head, and I felt dizzy. Ducky made a big deal out of nothing."

"Did he?"

"_Yes_." Ziva said the word firmly, trying to leave no room for argument. She wasn't sure if she succeeded, or if Gibbs just didn't think this was the right place to have a fight.

"Finish processing. On the way back have McGee stop and get you something to eat. You're losing weight."

"Fine."

Not that she had any intentions of actually passing on the message. But Gibbs already knew that, of course.

"So where do you want to stop?" McGee asked cheerfully as he climbed into the van. "I could go for a sandwich myself, but it's your call."

Ziva closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, mumbling, "I do not care."

She fell asleep before they were halfway to the sandwich shop.

* * *

"Alex says they're definitely nervous. There's been a lot of chatter about how nobody signed up to kill. They were nervous enough when it was just a marine dead because of a bad dealing. But now they've got killing an NCIS agent on them, and they know we have one of their guys in custody."

"Too bad the guy isn't talking."

"Yeah, but _they_ don't know that."

Conrad considered this for a moment. "Are you suggesting we spread a rumor that their captive pusher is singing?" A nod. "That is low, sneaky, and underhanded. And I love it. Still meeting Wright tonight?" Another nod. "Brilliant. Tell him to start the whispers."

"Yes sir." Cassandra Gagnon gave her boss a mock salute. Tyler rolled his eyes.

"Hey, anyone mind if I ask a question?" Tony spoke up, raising his hand.

"Even if we do, you'll ask it anyways."

"True. If this plan of yours doesn't pan out, how long exactly am I going to have to pretend I'm dead?"

"You got a mourning girlfriend waiting for you back home?" Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow. Tony's struggled not to let his thoughts show on his face as his mind instantly turned to Ziva. Right. Like the ice queen was _actually_ mourning him.

"No, but ya know, this being dead thing is kind of a drag. Can't go out for pizza or alcohol, can't even turn on my cell-phone in case someone accidentally calls it—"

"Yeah, so instead he kills the battery on _my_ phone playing god damn Tetris."

"DiNozzo we know you're making a sacrifice for us," Conrad said as he stood up. "And believe us when we say we're in your debt. Director Vance gave us two months for this. If at the end of two months we still aren't any closer than we were before you 'died' then I get to face down Gibbs and hope he doesn't kill me for offing one of his agents."

Tony sighed at the thought of Gibbs. He never thought he'd actually _miss_ the slightly abusive, functioning mute.

Tyler and Cassandra waited until Tony had disappeared into another room of the safe house before turning to their boss. "I think we should have told him about David," Cassandra said after a moment. News had travelled, of course, about the replacement agent Ziva David had tried to choke to death. It wasn't the kind of thing that stayed quiet.

But Conrad shook his head. "DiNozzo is iffy about this at best. If he hears about things going on at home, it's going to be even more reason for him to say screw it and go back."

"I ran into David in the elevator the other day. She looks like hell. Clearly she's not handling DiNozzo's 'death' very well."

"That's Gibbs' problem, not mine. We have a mission to think about. Don't let whatever's going on with that team distract you. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can send DiNozzo home. Don't get sidetracked."

"Yes sir."

* * *

_"You can't get rid of me that easily anyways," Tony promised, chuckling. Ziva winced when the laugh turned into a harsh, painful-sounding cough._

_"I am sure I cannot," Ziva mumbled, ducking her head, as if that would somehow make the terrible sound lessen. When she raised her head, she was no longer kneeling on the ground, but standing in the middle of a grassy field. Her hands were still painted red with blood. Tony's blood. She looked around quickly; the only thing in the field besides her was a hole about twenty feet from where she was standing. She didn't understand what other-worldly force compelled her to jog to the hole, to stop at the very edge, to look down._

_The breath left her as swiftly as if someone had punched her in the stomach._

_At the bottom of the hole was an open coffin. And inside the coffin…was Tony._

"Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?...You can't get rid of me that easily anyways."

_Ziva gasped suddenly, stumbling back, her knees nearly giving out from beneath her. No, no, no! He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead, _no_!_

_After a hesitant moment she peaked back into the hole, relieved to see that Tony was no longer in the coffin. Of course he wasn't dead. He was Tony. He couldn't die. She turned to walk away…_

_And stopped abruptly as she walked into something. She stepped back quickly, regaining her bearings, and beginning to raise her eyes to look at the person she'd walked into, to apologize. She froze when she saw the jagged, bloody bullet hole in the person's chest._

_"You can't get rid of me that easily."_

_A pair of hands rested themselves against her shoulders, pushing her back…_

_She fell._

"Ziva!"

Ziva's eyes snapped open, her last scream dying in her throat. She straightened up quickly, yanking her hat off and running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. She pulled in a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heart and pulse. She couldn't bring herself to look at McGee, who was no doubt watching her with concern.

"Ziva?"

She ignored him, shoving the truck door open and climbing out, struggling not to slam it behind her before storming over to the elevator. McGee hurried to catch up with her so he wouldn't be stuck waiting.

The ride up to the bullpen was silent. McGee kept looking at Ziva out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out something comforting to say. He wasn't good at this.

Ziva stopped in the bullpen long enough to drop her jacket and hat before leaving again, pulling her hair out of its customary ponytail as she walked. Gibbs, who had been sitting at his desk, looked over at McGee, raising an eyebrow.

"Something happen?"

McGee sighed as he set down the small paper bag with Ziva's sandwich in it on her desk. "She uh…fell asleep on the way back, I think she had a nightmare, she was muttering a lot and right as I pulled into the garage she…she started screaming." He cringed as he said this; of all the things he had never thought he would have to hear, Ziva's fear-filled screams were definitely at the top of the list. "Boss…I don't think Ziva's okay."

"Well _gee_ McGee, where did you _ever_ get that idea?"

Ziva cupped her hands under the water, splashing it against her face in a futile attempt to make herself look at least halfway human. Emphasis on _futile_.

After a moment Ziva raised her face to look at herself in the mirror. She traced the circles under her eyes with a thin finger, wishing there was some way to make them _less_ pronounced. The sunken cheek bones and too pale skin she could deal with. But the circles drew far too much attention. She needed to start sleeping again.

Except for what had happened in the truck was a damn good example of _why_ she had stopped sleeping in the first place. She couldn't deal with nightmares.

Ziva walked back into the bullpen as Gibbs was walking out. "Make sure you eat," he ordered, nodding to the bag McGee had left on her desk. "You're looking up Petty Officer Galvin's financial records."

"Right," Ziva mumbled as she sat down, moving the computer mouse to wake the screen up.

She managed to get through the next five minutes in silence. "You know…if you want to talk, I'll listen," McGee finally said without looking away from his own computer screen. Ziva shifted her eyes to him for a brief moment before returning to her work. "I mean, I know you're not usually one to talk about how you're feeling, and I'm sure you can think of a dozen people you would talk to besides me, but…I'm here for you Ziva. Really."

He sounded so awkward…and so _sincere_. Ziva had to smile, just a little. "I know you are McGee. Thank you. But I do not want to talk."

"I didn't think you would," he admitted with a sigh. "But…the card is on the table. If you completely lose your mind if you decide you want to open up." He paused as what he had said sunk in. "I mean, not that I think you're going to lose your mind, you're completely stable—"

"_No one_ is completely stable, McGee," Ziva said with a hollow laugh. "And I most _certainly_ am not. Thank you though. Now maybe you should focus on your work."

"R-Right."

The rest of the day passed in reasonable peace. Abby made it a point to hug Ziva every time they so much as stood within a five foot radius of one another, but Ziva had found she was receiving more Abby hugs as of late anyways, so it really wasn't much of a difference. McGee somehow managed to hold a conversation with the Israeli without letting it get completely awkward, and Gibbs ended up sending Ziva home at about nine that night with strict orders that he didn't want to see her until noon the next day, and she better get a good night's sleep.

Ziva knew there was only one way _that_ was happening.

_"Since when do you take sleeping pills?" Ari asked, picking up the bottle sitting on his sister's kitchen counter. Ziva snatched the bottle away from him, yanking open a drawer and throwing it in, shoving the drawer shut again._

_"I have been having trouble sleeping as of late."_

_Ari looked between the drawer and Ziva, understanding alight in his dark eyes. "Nightmares." It wasn't a question. Ziva didn't answer._

…

_Ari would not have been happy if he found out she was taking sleeping pills again. But who cared what he thought anyways? He was a traitor. Ziva just had to keep reminding herself of that as she threw the pill back and swallowed, laying down and letting it do its thing._

…

_"You're taking sleeping pills?" Tony asked as he picked up the bottle, turning it over in his fingers. Ziva could sense that he wasn't happy with this. He knew her history with the dangerous little capsules._

_"I have been having trouble sleeping since…returning. The pills help."_

_Tony regarded Ziva with cautious green eyes. "Just don't let it get out of control."_

_As if she ever would._

Ziva sighed as she curled up on the edge of Tony's bed, staring at the pill bottle clutched tightly in her hands. Not counting when Abby had drugged her after Tony's funeral, she hadn't taken sleeping pills in over a year. She had hoped she would never have to again.

She popped the bottle open and dumped out a pill, throwing it back and swallowing before crawling under the covers and waiting for the pill to work their magic.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So…not much to say about this chapter, except review please! — Sam


	5. The End Where I Begin

_Sometimes we don't learn from our mistakes  
Sometimes we've no choice but to walk away, away  
Tried to break my heart, well it's broke  
Tried to hang me high  
Well I'm choked, wanted rain on me  
Well I'm soaked  
Soaked to the skin_

* * *

_**Scene Five — The End Where I Begin**_

Ziva wasn't completely happy about being back on the sleeping pills. Ari would have killed her. Tony would have been pissed. But they were both dead, so who cared what they thought?

Gibbs seemed to pick up on the fact that Ziva was sleeping again at least, even if that was _all_ she did to take care of herself; her eating habits were still erratic at best. She suddenly found herself receiving more dinner invitations from Abby, McGee, and even Ducky. She turned them down mostly. She wondered if any of them were going to her apartment. If they did they never commented on the fact that she constantly ignored them knocking on her door.

And she continued taking the sleeping pills. Each day was still a struggle to hold herself together, and most of the time she was sure she was going to just fall apart at any moment.

But at least she was facing the days with a full night of dreamless sleep.

* * *

Tony's eyes snapped open, his breath escaping in a surprised, startled gasp. He sat up quickly, running a hand through his hair and cursing.

Even a year later, he _still_ dreamed about the day they'd found Ziva in Somalia. The dirt smeared across her normally flawless skin, the sunken, hollow cheek bones…the absolute defeat shining in her normally rebellious eyes…

Tony was sure he'd dream about it until the day he _actually_ died.

_"Ziva…can you fight?"_

He'd known at the time it was a futile question. She looked as if she could barely _stand_, never mind fight her way out of that hell-hole.

No. He'd known she couldn't fight. It was the fact that she hadn't even been willing to _try_ that had hurt him the most. The fact that less than three minutes after he'd asked the question, she'd volunteered herself to die in hopes of getting McGee and Tony out alive.

Tony threw back the blankets and vaulted out of bed, shuffling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He would've given anything to be allowed even _one_ bottle of beer. He would've sold his soul to be able to share the bottle with Ziva.

_Damn, I never gave her that case of beer…gotta remember to do that when I get back._ He took a deep sip of his water, frowning as he leaned against the counter. He wondered again how everyone was doing. Poor Abby, this must have really been tearing her up. Of all of them, _she_ was the one that handled death the worst. Gibbs was probably suffering silently, as he had with Kate. Tony wondered if he was being _nice_ to McGee and Ziva. That certainly would have been amusing to see. McGee was probably throwing himself into some computer-related thing, trying to avoid the fact that he was the last of the original team. And Ziva…who the hell knew what _she _ was doing. Was she even effected at all?

_She's not completely heartless_, a voice in the back of Tony's head spoke up. _You know that better than anyone. She's probably hurting just as much as everyone else._

Tony was going to have a _lot_ of explaining to do when he got back. He just hoped Ziva would be up to listening to him.

Tony sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, going back to his room and grabbing his wallet off the bedside table, flipping it open and finding the picture he had tucked away inside. It was of him and Ziva, the one that Tony had helped set up for Abby to take. It had felt more right than he was willing to admit, holding Ziva in his arms. He had been pleased when Abby had handed over a wallet-size for him without too many questions. He stared at the picture for a long time, his eyes taking in Ziva's features.

_Not much longer. Conrad has a month of his allotted time left. You'll be home before you know it_.

* * *

_"It's not your fault you know."_

_"Tell that to my mother."_

_Ari made a noise at the back of his throat. He hadn't been able to go to Tali's funeral (a fact he would regret until the day he died), but he'd heard, as everyone had, about Rivka David, how she had broken down halfway through and screamed at Ziva for the world to hear that it was _her_ fault her sister was dead. That everybody would have been happier if it had been Ziva instead of Tali._

_As if Ziva hadn't already been thinking that._

_But it had been six months. Ari had been sure she would be okay again when she returned from Cairo. But being back in Israel had sparked something, he supposed. She'd gone right back to being a zombie after only a couple of days._

_"Have you _talked_ to Rivka since the funeral?"_

_It was Ziva's turn to make a contemptuous noise. "Why, so she can yell at me again about what a terrible person I am for killing my baby sister? I will pass, thank you."_

_Ari knew better than to defend Rivka — not that he would have anyways. But he didn't need Ziva turning _him_ into the enemy as well. "It might make you feel better," he said instead. It scared him that the only time he had seen Ziva happy since Tali had died had been when she had been mercilessly killing every Hamas agent she could point a gun at._

_At least she hadn't gone back to _that_._

_"I just think you should call her."_

_"I do not owe her anything," Ziva retorted. "And I certainly do not want to talk to her. If she has something to say, _she_ can call _me_."_

_And Ari knew, with that tone, that the discussion was over_.

* * *

McGee was surprised when he walked into Abby's lab and found said Goth curled up in the corner, crying. "Abby?"

She jumped in surprise and looked up, her tear filled eyes meeting McGee's. "Hey McGee," she muttered in a hoarse voice before going back to cuddling Bert. McGee crossed the lab and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her tightly.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you know what today is?" McGee wracked his brain, trying to think. He'd never been good at remembering dates.

"The…fifth?" Abby shook her head. "Tuesday?"

"_No_, McGee. Today makes one month since Tony…since Tony…" She couldn't finish the sentence, and instead dissolved into tears once more. McGee pressed his lips together as he tightened his grip. "It's only been a month," Abby sobbed as she buried her face in McGee's jacket. "It's only been a month, and everything's already fallen apart so bad. Gibbs hasn't head-slapped anyone, do you know how _weird_ that is?" Yes. Yes McGee did. "There's only two musketeers now, that's not right, there has to be _three _musketeers. I miss my three musketeers." McGee wasn't even going to _ask_ about that. "And Ziva…I think Ziva's finally gone off the deep end."

McGee wouldn't admit that he had been thinking the same thing. "I wouldn't go that far Abby—"

"I go to her apartment," Abby interrupted. "Ever since that…_incident_ with Timmons, I've gone like every other night. She never answers the door though, and I know she hears me, even if she _didn't_ have super hearing, I knock pretty loudly. But she _never_ comes to the door." Somehow that didn't surprise McGee.

"She's just dealing with it in her own way—"

"Her _own_ way would have killed a guy if Gibbs hadn't walked in. And while yes, the guy was an arrogant _ass_, I don't think he deserved to die."

"I don't think she would have killed him."

"Are you sure about that, McGee?" No. No he wasn't. "Everything's falling apart," Abby repeated when McGee didn't say anything. "This team _needs_ Tony. We're not the same without him."

"No, but…he's not coming back."

Abby sniffed, burying her face once more in McGee's shoulder. "That's the part that hurts the most."

* * *

Ziva dutifully kept her eyes on her computer screen as she typed. She was the only one in the bullpen currently; McGee had gone down to see Abby, and Gibbs was wherever Gibbs went when he wasn't in MTAC or the director's office or the lab or autopsy. So probably getting a cup of coffee.

It was too quiet. It was driving Ziva crazy. Tony never would have let it be this quiet. He would have been making jokes or stupid comments or using pens as drumsticks and banging out a beat on his desk. And Ziva would have told him to stop being so obnoxious, would have asked why he felt the need to be so _damn_ annoying.

But now it was too quiet.

Ziva was almost tempted to go and see Abby, or maybe Ducky. Anything to get out of the damn quiet. But going to them meant dealing with the sympathetic glances, the hushed voices that gave the illusion they were talking to a person on her deathbed. She would have rather dealt with the quiet than the pity.

_One year. Three-hundred and sixty-five days. Fifty two weeks. Too long no matter how one measure it. Ziva could never quite remember how she dragged herself through that day. She spent a lot of time dodging Ari, who had conveniently chosen _this _day to come in and deliver his report. What a coincidence._

_It was a relief to escape to her apartment, her sanctuary, with her bottle of pills._

_"It should have been you!"_

What would have happened if Tony hadn't pushed her down? _Would_ she have moved in time? Would _she _have taken the bullet instead?

_"Why was it her? Why not you?"_

Gibbs walked into the bullpen, coffee in hand, his eyes sweeping first over Ziva, then the empty desks.

"Where's McGee?"

"Downstairs. Abby's, I think. Do we have a case?"

"Nope. Just curious."

One month. Thirty days. Four weeks. Too long.

Ziva's fingers stumbled over the keyboard; she finally stopped typing as she realized everything she had written in the last twenty minutes was nothing short of Gibberish. Gibbs looked around as the sound of her fingers tapping the keyboard was replaced by silence.

"Something wrong?"

Damn it, what had she been trying to type? She couldn't remember.

"No."

She highlighted everything and hit _delete_.

Was it really okay to let her keep going like this, Gibbs wondered as he sat down. She wouldn't go to the office shrink, not unless Gibbs threatened her job, and even then maybe not. But she couldn't keep locking up inside herself. Vance was talking again about replacing Tony. The last thing anyone needed was Ziva snapping on another agent.

It had been a month. And Ziva was _not_ getting better. Gibbs wondered how much longer she expected him to let this go on.

* * *

"Alex you're the best and I love you." Cassandra was grinning as she flipped her cellphone shut.

"Rule number twelve," Tony recited hollowly, taking a sip of his water. Cassie raised an eyebrow at him, obviously confused.

"Not going to ask. Agent Wright has been doing some snooping, thinks he might have a name for the main dealer." Tony sat up straighter, instantly more interested. "He heard his…boss, for lack of a better word, talking to a couple of other bosses, the name Smith came up a _lot_. Something about telling him they'd had enough."

Tony slumped back in his chair. "Fabulous. Do you know how popular the name _Smith_ is? First _and_ last?"

"It's more than we had before," Cassie insisted. "Besides, its' the context that's more important. People are nervous, want out. The rumor got around that the guy we have in custody is singing like a bird, telling us everything he knows. And if that's not enough, they still have the death of an NCIS agent hanging over their heads. Nobody wants to be associated with that. The bigger guys, the ones above the pushers, want out. If Alex plays his cards right, he could be getting himself a promotion. So to speak."

"Well good for him," Tony muttered sarcastically. "I'm _so_ glad my death has been beneficial to all of you and your investigation."

"Drop the pity act," Cassie snapped. "You knew what you were getting into before you agreed to this. Did you think pretending to be dead would be another adventure for you?"

"Oh shut up."

Tony could handle being dead. Really he could. It was more the fact that he was, in effect, lying to the people who trusted him with their lives. They were going to _hate_ him for this. He couldn't even ask them to try and understand. Because if the situation was reversed, he sure as hell never would.

"Anyways you'll be home before long. Just suck it up."

Tony scowled.

* * *

_"Ziva come on!" Tali complained as Ziva stood up, flipping her phone open to see who was calling. "You promised, no work today, remember?"_

_"I know, I know," Ziva sighed as she accepted the call, muttering a quick greeting into it before turning her attention back to her sister. "One moment Li-la, I promise, I will be right back."_

_"You better be!" Tali called as Ziva walked towards the bathroom._

Ziva collapsed onto Tony's couch, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted alcohol _quite_ so badly. It was a little before midnight and for the first time in a week, the sleeping pills weren't doing what she wanted them to. She'd been tossing and turning for nearly an hour trying to sleep, but despite the fact that she was clearly tired, her mind was refusing to turn itself off. And god help Ziva, she wanted a beer.

That wasn't a road she was taking though. Not again.

_Ziva moved on automatic as she walked into her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her. She went into her room and collapsed onto the bed, grabbing the bottle of sleeping pills off her bedside table. She curled her fingers around the bottle and made her way back into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer out of the fridge and popping the cap off before dumping out the five or so pills that remained in the bottle_.

_This is ridiculous_, Ziva thought as she grabbed the pill bottle off the bedside table and popped it open, dumping a couple more pills out and throwing them into her mouth, swallowing them. _If Gibbs thinks I am not sleeping again he's going to pull me off field duty. I have to try to sleep_.

She looked at the clock. Five past twelve. Fabulous. She laid back down, curling up under the blankets, feeling a momentary stab of pain when she realized the pillow smelled more like her than Tony.

_"What were you thinking?"_

_Ziva winced as her father's voice, loud and angry, cut through her head like a knife as she came back to consciousness. "_Were _you thinking?" Eli David demanded as he watched his daughter struggle through the haze of her mind to sit up._

_"No," she admitted, unable to look her father in the eye. "It was…an accident. I have not been sleeping well for…for a while now, so I started taking sleeping pills. I did not realize mixing them with alcohol would be a bad idea."_

_"Idiot," her father hissed, but he seemed to buy the lie. Either that, or he didn't want to deal with it. It didn't matter. What mattered was that Ziva was off the hook. He spoke to the doctor, convinced him that Ziva's story was true, that she would _never_ try and kill herself. Ziva was out of the hospital by the next morning_.

The clock seemed to be teasing Ziva as the cheery red numbers informed her it was almost one a.m. She groaned as she sat up, grabbing the bottle of pills once more and, for the third or fourth time in the past two hours, she swallowed two more pills.

_"What were you thinking?"_

_Ari's voice was certainly calmer than their father's, though no less angry. Ziva turned to look at her brother, who was regarding her with a furious expression. "It was an accident—"_

_"Don't give me that _crap_ Ziva. You do not make mistakes, especially not mistakes that may cost you your life. You may have sold that story to Father, but I am not going to let it go so easily. _This_ was not an accident. Now: _what were you thinking_?"_

_Ziva gave Ari a calm, unwavering glance. It had been enough to write off everyone else that had questioned her. Not him though. He knew her far too well. "It was an accident Ari. I swear. Now I am sure you have better things to do with your time then—"_

_"I am not leaving until I know you are not going to try and kill yourself again the second I walk out of here!" Ari shouted, losing his patience completely. Ziva's calm expression turned into a scowl, her fingers clenching into fists._

_"I was _not_ trying to kill myself," she informed her brother coldly. "You know me Ari, do you really think I would attempt such a thing?"_

_"I _knew _you," Ari corrected Ziva. "You have changed since Tali died. I feel as if I do not know you at all anymore."  
_

_"Well no matter who I am, I would _never_ try to kill myself." Ari made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat._

_"And again, I have no reason to believe you."_

_"Well that is not my problem."_

The clock read almost one-thirty when Ziva finally gave up. She threw back the blankets and started to sit up, deciding _one_ night of no sleep wouldn't hurt her…

As she started to climb out of bed, though, a wave of vertigo crashed down on her, so hard it sent the room spinning and forced her to sit down roughly. She rested her hands against the side of her head, moving her fingers in a circular motion to try and still the spinning of the room. She wasn't having much luck.

After a moment she managed to stumble up, grabbing the wall and pieces of furniture in order to navigate herself into the living room. She ignored the faint but definitely present feeling of nausea, other than to take it as a sign that she probably shouldn't eat anything. But why had she been coming out here again? Everything was kind of frizzy…no, wait, that wasn't the right word. Fritzy? No, that wasn't right either. Jeez, where was Tony, he always knew what she was trying to say…

_The sound of gun being fired echoed off the trees…she felt herself being tackled from behind, being pushed the ground…she saw the red blood staining his grey jacket…_

_"Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?"_

A sharp gasp forced its way past Ziva's lips, dragging her back to reality. Damn it, how many sleeping pills had she taken? She couldn't remember…her eyes were heavy, sleep threatening to drag her under. It was very tempting to just curl up on the couch and let her eyes close…but no, that probably would have been a bad idea. If only she could remember _why_ it was a bad idea…

_Call someone!_ A voice that sounded suspiciously like Ari's screamed in the back of Ziva's head. Right. Wait, why did she have to call somebody? _Just do it!_

Right. Okay. Ziva stumbled up, regretting the action when her stomach turned, so violently she was actually surprised when she didn't throw up. How she made it into the kitchen, she didn't know. She grabbed her cell-phone off the counter and leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly until she was on the floor. She hit the first speed dial her finger touched.

The tinny ringing sound echoed down the line three times before someone picked up.

"_Gibbs._"

Ziva swallowed a couple of times, half-considering hanging up. But she needed help. And if she was going to trust anyone to help her, it was Gibbs.

"Gibbs? I…I need help."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hmn…Ziva seems to have gotten herself into a bit of trouble with her silly OOC-ness. Gibbs isn't going to be happy when he gets his hands on her…review please? — Sam


	6. Life Left To Go

_Alone as you walk  
__Through a crowd and its awkward  
__Like nobody sees  
__And you can't help but wonder  
__Would anyone come after you  
__If you'd leave_

_So a pain grows inside  
__And a fear comes alive  
__Like you'll never be free  
__But there's no pain you feel  
__That I know love can't heal here at all_

* * *

_**Scene Six — Life Left To Go**_

The sun had just begun to peak over the horizon when Ziva stirred, groaning quietly as she forced her eyes to open. Her vision was blurred; she could just make out a white-ish gray blob leaning over her. She winced, waiting for the yelling…

"Ziver?"

She blinked a couple of times, her vision clearing. "Gibbs," she managed to say, her voice cracking. She sat up slowly as Gibbs picked up the plastic pitcher of water on the bedside table, pouring a cup and handing it to Ziva, who drained the cup in one sip. Gibbs watched her in silence. "What time is it?" She finally asked, looking around.

"Little after six a.m." Ziva closed her eyes, almost tempted to just fall back to sleep. As if Gibbs would allow such a thing. "What were you thinking, Ziva?" Gibbs was surprised when Ziva laughed hollowly. "Well clearly I've said something funny. Wanna let me in on the joke?"

"Déjà vu," Ziva said simply, knowing Gibbs wouldn't like it if she were to compare him to her father. "It is almost funny."

Gibbs decided to pursue that when it became relevant again (and he was sure it would soon). "When did you start taking sleeping pills?"

"When you told me not to come back into the office until I got a decent night's sleep." Gibbs frowned.

"I didn't mean medicate."

"It was the only way I could sleep without dreaming."

"And last night? What happened there?"

Ziva swallowed, closing her eyes and turning her head away from Gibbs. "I was…trying to sleep. The pills were not working. I just…kept taking them. I was not thinking. Clearly."

"Clearly." Gibbs repeated dryly, a sarcastic edge on his voice. "Exactly what did you think you would accomplish by continuously popping pills?" It took Ziva a moment to answer that.

"I…just wanted to sleep," she finally whispered. It was such an inadequate answer. She knew it wasn't going to get her anywhere. But she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"How many pills did you take?"

"I do not remember."

Gibbs reached a hand out, tucking his fingers under Ziva's chin and turning her head to look at him. "Open your eyes Ziva." She complied, tired mahogany eyes meeting blue. "I don't want to let the doctor put you in the psych ward. But give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Ziva pressed her lips together, her stomach turning unpleasantly. Great. Now he thought she was crazy. "I was not trying to kill myself, Gibbs."

"And why should I believe that?" Gibbs asked calmly. He didn't _want_ to believe she was trying to kill herself, of course; but there was so much evidence against her, he wasn't sure _what_ to believe.

"Because I called you."

It was such a simple answer. And so very true. But no matter how true it was, Ziva knew Gibbs wasn't going to accept just that. She was going to have to make this case.

"Gibbs…I have tried to kill myself before. The only reason I did not succeed was because somebody found me. If I had wanted to die last night…I would have. There is no question about that."

There was no surprise in Gibbs' features, though Ziva knew he was reacting to her confession. "You've tried to kill yourself?"

"It was a long time ago."

"Define _long_." Ziva sighed, raising a hand to rub her eyes. These were memories she had been hoping to avoid re-visiting. And she had _certainly_ never imagined she would be recounting them to _Gibbs_, of all people.

"Seven years," she finally admitted in a low voice. "Gibbs, I swear, what happened last night was an accident. I was annoyed that the pills were not working, I thought maybe I had developed a resistance and that more would simply put me to sleep—"

"You don't develop a resistance from taking pills for a couple of weeks."

"You have not figured out yet that this is not the first time I have taken sleeping pills? I took them for nearly eight months after my sister died, four months after Ari, and a month after Somalia." She paused for a moment before adding, "I…probably would have taken them for longer if Tony had not stopped me."

Why she needed to add that, she didn't know. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her, looking almost intrigued now. "DiNozzo knew everything you just told me?" That was the only reason he could think of that Tony would stop her, after all…

Ziva nodded slowly. "It was about a month after you…retired. Another NCIS agent killed himself, it kind of…shook everyone up. Too close to home, I suppose. Tony came to my apartment that night, and we started talking, and out of nowhere, he asked me if I had ever tried to kill myself. I tried to lie, of course, but he knows…_knew_ me too well." She cringed internally as she corrected her use of present tense. Gibbs nodded slowly, scrubbing his eyes. He was tired. He hadn't gotten any sleep last night, of course; he'd only just gone to bed an hour before Ziva had called him, and the hours following that had been spent waiting for the doctor to tell him if she was okay, and then waiting for her to wake up. "Gibbs…I am sorry—"

"Don't apologize, it's a sign of weakness," Gibbs interrupted. Ziva made a strange noise that was somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

"I have been pretty damn weak as of late."

"You're not weak, Ziva. You're in pain. Pain that most people can't even imagine and a few know all too well." Ziva pulled in a deep breath, swallowing a couple of times before bringing herself to speak.

"Your wife and daughter." It wasn't a question. Gibbs almost didn't answer; until he realized that Ziva _had_ just disclosed something incredibly personal to him. And though the context didn't exactly demand that he return the favor, it wasn't like Ziva wouldn't guess. She was by no means an idiot. No matter how she sometimes acted.

"Yeah. I've been there too." He reached a hand out, smoothing a loose strand of hair back from Ziva's face. "There's a big difference between you and me though, Ziver."

"And that is?"

"I didn't have people willing to take care of me."

Ziva stared at Gibbs for a long time, pushing back the tears that threatened to surface. "Are you going to tell the doctor to put me in the psych ward?" She asked finally, her voice shaking just a little. She sounded so sad, so…small. It broke Gibbs' heart more than a little.

"No." Ziva would admit, she was surprised by the answer. "Don't think you're going home alone though. We'll stop by your apartment and pick up some clothes—"

"Actually…most of my things are at Tony's apartment now." Ziva ducked her head as she said this, her face burning red. She hadn't meant for anyone to find out about her living at Tony's place.

"Yeah, when did that start exactly?"

"After…Timmons. When you sent me home, I went back to my own apartment, and I was still angry…at Timmons…then at Tony…I ended up destroying a couple of things, it seemed like the best outlet for my anger…I really do not remember why I thought it was a good idea to go to Tony's. It was _not_ a good idea."

"You know that, but you've been living there the entire time?"

Ziva raised her eyes to look at Gibbs; she had given up on fighting back the tears. They welled in her eyes, though refused to fall, as if they were as stubborn as she was. "I…do not know what is wrong with me, Gibbs," she admitted after a moment, the tremble in her voice more pronounced this time.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with you, Ziva. You fell in love, is all."

"Oh is _that_ all?" Ziva asked, a bit sarcastically.

"I didn't think you'd like that answer," Gibbs admitted; he was smirking a little. "You're going to be okay, Ziva. It just takes time."

"Right. And how much longer am I going to have to live like this?"

Gibbs didn't have an answer to that.

* * *

Ziva couldn't exactly say she was thrilled to find herself living with Gibbs again. Yes, it got her out of Tony's apartment, which she obviously needed. But she knew without the sleeping pills she'd be right back to having nightmares. Nightmares Gibbs would have a front row seat to witness.

At least taking no sleeping pills meant she could finally drink alcohol.

Gibbs wasn't surprised when he walked down into the basement a little after midnight and found Ziva swigging from his bourbon bottle. "Overdosing on sleeping pills last night, alcohol poisoning tonight?" He asked as he carefully eased the bottle out of her hands. She didn't fight him, at least. She mumbled something in Hebrew as a way of response. "English, Ziva."

"I was not going to drink much more," she managed to say as she stumbled up, wandering across the basement, choosing to walk through Gibbs' half-finished boat. "Gibbs how do you get these things out of your basement?"

"Trade secret."

"Ooohhh." She turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide and unnaturally bright. "We have all tried very hard to figure out how you get these out of here. Somebody suggested once that one of the walls comes out. I don't remember who it was though. Ducky, maybe?" She shrugged, shaking her head. "Probably not Ducky. I do not think I have ever even discussed the matter with him."

Gibbs sat down in Ziva's vacated seat, watching her wander. "You sure it was a good idea for you to be drinking?" He asked after a moment.

"As long as I am not taking sleeping pills, I am sure it will be fine." She paused for a moment, looking down at the long-faded stain that Gibbs had never been able to quite wash away. The stain of Ari's blood. "That is how I did it last time, you know. It would not have been as bad, I only took five pills. I washed them down with beer though. I knew that mixing them with alcohol was a bad idea, that is why I avoided it this time. Last time though, I really wanted to die."

"Who found you?"

"Ari. He knew I had been having a bad time, he came over to check on me. You know before he was a traitor he was a good person. A good brother. He changed after his mother was killed, though. I guess death changes everybody."

"That it does." Gibbs looked down at the bourbon bottle hanging loosely between his fingers. After a minute he shrugged and took a sip before capping it. "Why did you try to kill yourself before, Ziva?"

There was a pause as Ziva's face took on a sad, more somber expression. She was staring at the ceiling now, as if she were speaking to _it_, not Gibbs. "My sister Tali died when she was sixteen, in a Hamas suicide bombing. She was visiting my father for the weekend — custody arrangements, they argued for hours over them, my mother insisted that my father only wanted a relationship with us so he could do to us what he did to Ari…" Ziva's voice trailed off. "Wait, what was the original question?"

"Why you tried to kill yourself."

"Oh. Right. Tali was visiting our father in Tel Aviv, but he was working of course, so she was with me. The only time we saw each other was when she visited our father, our mother disowned me when I joined Mossad. Anyways we were…at a café in town, I left the table for _two minutes_ to take a phone call…I was in the back, near the bathrooms when the bomb went off. I ended up with a concussion and a broken arm, and Talia…she ended up dead." Her voice drifted off into a shudder. Gibbs waited while Ziva recollected herself to finish the story. "My mother spoke to me again long enough to blame me for everything.

"The next month after that was spent killing any Hamas agent that was unlucky enough to cross paths with me. Eventually my father sent me to Cairo, I was jeopardizing Ari's mission or something, I do not remember exactly why he stopped me. Anyways I met Jenny there, and for a while I was happy again. Or at least I was not thinking as much about what had happened. But when the mission was over, and I returned home…probably would have been better if he had just left me in Cairo. Strangely enough I managed to make it through the next eight months, all the way up to the first anniversary of her death. I…to this day, I do not know exactly _what_ made me snap. All I know is I went home that night, I took my bottle of sleeping pills, and I finished the entire thing, washing them down with a bottle of beer." She paused for a moment, as if considering what to say next, before continuing in a matter of fact tone, "I woke up in the hospital two days later to my father yelling at me. Ari told me later that I had been in and out of consciousness for those two days, begging him to let me die. I do not remember that at all."

Well, being drunk certainly made her lips looser. "You never tried again after that?"

"No. I started taking sleeping pills again after Ari died, the irony did not escape me. Ari forced me to stop taking the pills after the…first time. I never felt the same need to end it that I did when it was Tali. Maybe because Ari was a traitor. Maybe because I was the one who killed him. I do not know. I took them for a few months after Ari, but it was not as bad. Being around all of you helped, I think. And after Somalia…the nightmares after that were awful. I probably would have taken sleeping pills for a lot longer than I did if Tony had not stopped me."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as Ziva's eyes narrowed a bit, giving her a tired, lidded look. "Tony took care of me. I would never tell him that, of course, it would go to his head. But he…I think sometimes he kept me sane. Even if a lot of the time he drove me absolutely crazy…I do not think I can live without him, Gibbs." She laughed suddenly, surprising Gibbs. "He said that to me, you know. When he and McGee found me in Somalia, he…I asked him why he was there, and he said he could not live without me. I cannot even say he was lying, he was still under the influence of Saleem's truth serum. I never asked him what he meant by that. Even on the nights he came over, or we went out drinking, or we stayed at the office to watch a movie on the plasma, I never asked. Why did I not ask him?"

"You didn't want to know."

"I should have. I should have wanted to know. Why did I not want to know, Gibbs?"

Gibbs stood up, walking across the basement until he was standing in front of Ziva. And suddenly he had an odd flashback to five years ago, when they had stood in that same position, with Ari dead at their feet. Back then all he had offered as comfort was a touch of his hand against hers.

Now though, he reached out, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest, hugging her tightly. She didn't respond for a long time.

"I think I loved him, Gibbs."

Gibbs sighed, tightening his grip a little. He'd always known that rule twelve didn't apply to Ziva or Tony, at least in the context of the two of them being…_them_.

Too bad it took Tony's death to make Ziva realize that.

"I know you did, Ziver."

She buried her face in Gibbs' shoulder, her arms reaching up automatically to return the hug he offered.

* * *

**Author's Note: **At least there's an excuse for the OOCness in the second half of the chapter; she _was _drunk, after all. Anyways, good news everyone: we're getting closer to what everyone wants to see, AKA Tony comes back! Well, close as in like, 3 more chapters, but closer than we were before. By now you're probably thinking "How much more can the psycho author _do_ to Ziva?" Well…stay-tuned. Review please! — Sam


	7. Everytime

_Every time I try to fly  
__I fall without my wings  
__I feel so small  
__I guess I need you baby  
__And every time I see you in my dreams  
__I see your face, it's haunting me  
__I guess I need you baby_

* * *

_**Scene Seven — Everytime**_

"Grab your gear."

McGee and Ziva exchanged tired looks. "Another one?" The former asked as they both stood up, grabbing their bags. Gibbs didn't answer.

A week had passed since the…_incident_ with Ziva and the sleeping pills. Gibbs still had Ziva staying with him, though he was at least aiding her in not letting any of the others know about what had happened. No one else knew how damn far she had fallen.

Fortunately within a day of Ziva resuming living with Gibbs, a new distraction had presented itself in the form of a prostitute killed less than a block away from the Navy Yard. She wasn't the first; three prostitutes before her had been killed in much the same manner; the killer used them then he stabbed them in the stomach, leaving them to bleed out in an alleyway.

What made this one different was that a witness had seen the woman being picked up on a corner less than fifty feet from where she had been found. The person picking her up had been wearing a navy uniform.

The idea that the case might even be _slightly_ related to the navy had been enough to call NCIS.

Since Team Gibbs had picked up the case, three more women had been killed. Gibbs walking into the bullpen saying "Grab your gear" was his way of announcing the fourth.

The ride to the scene was quiet, as it always was these days. McGee drove; so desperate he was for normalcy that he'd actually _offered_ to let Ziva drive. She had refused.

"Ziva perimeter and help Ducky with the body, McGee photos, then interview."

The two nodded, quickly getting to work. Ducky and Palmer followed suit when they arrived. "Tragic," Ducky sighed as he examined the young woman on the ground, laying in a pool of her own blood.

"Same MO, Duck?"

"Single stab wound to the abdomen, obvious signs of sexual activity…it does not seem like much a stretch to say it's the same man, Jethro." Gibbs sighed, clearly frustrated, and yanked his hat off, running a hand through his hair. The fourth victim since they had picked up the case, and they were barely any closer than they had been when they had started.

"McGee pull footage from any security camera you can find and get it to Abby, see if we can find this girl can getting picked up." Not that this had yielded any results for them the first three times they had done it. Maybe the fourth time would be a charm.

"Got it boss."

"I have a footprint!" Ziva said suddenly, drawing Gibbs attention. He went over to her as she knelt down, taking a picture of the red-hued print on the ground. "Probably a common work-boot that ninety-nine percent of the men in the Navy wear," she mumbled as she measure the footprint before snapping another shot.

"Still more than we had before."

Ziva looked up, seeing another footprint less than a foot away from the one she had originally found. She stood up, snapping photos as she went. The footprints ended at the alleyway entrance; the killer had found a puddle to wash his boot off in. If she had to guess, she would say the man had been preparing to turn left, from the directionality the footprints seemed to take. She wasn't going to assume anything though.

It was a bit disheartening, working the crime-scene. Knowing they were no closer to finding the killer than they had been _last_ time. Hoping this time would be different.

And Ziva hated that she almost _liked_ it.

* * *

Ziva was never completely sure where the idea came from. Maybe it had been formulating on the edge of her mind since they had taken the case, waiting for the moment she could put it to use. It certainly wasn't something that just _came_ to her out of nowhere. The idea had to be alive somewhere in her mind, even before she became consciously aware of it.

But when Abby said she had pulled a grainy image of a man in a Navy uniform talking to their victim, one word came to Ziva's mind: _undercover_.

She would have to be careful, of course. Gibbs would see right through her if she came straight out and suggested she go undercover. Not that there was anything to see through.

Really.

"The image is awful, I couldn't get his face. He's about six-foot-one, 'bout a hundred and eight pounds, probably…mid-thirties."

"Abby that's half the military."

"I'm aware."

Gibbs stared at the grainy picture on the screen. They had a tentative pattern of how the man moved; they just weren't sure how reliable it was.

"If we could predict where he's going to strike next…"

"We could stake out the place and catch the guy," McGee finished Ziva's thought, much to her relief.

"Let's see if we _can_ figure out where he's going to strike next," Gibbs decided after a moment of serious thought. "Then we take it from there."

Gibbs kicked Ziva and McGee out at nine when he realized they weren't going to be getting any further on the case tonight. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?" McGee asked as he and Ziva stepped into the elevator.

"Going home, showering, probably catching up on some reading. Why?"

"Well, you know…I was just wondering if you wanted to do something, maybe get some drinks or food or something. My treat." Ziva winced a bit as she thought about her last encounter with alcohol, Gibbs' bourbon, and the awful hangover she'd woken up with the morning after.

"Thank you McGee, but I think I will pass. I am tired, I would really rather go home and relax. Some other time, perhaps."

McGee hesitated for a long time before taking the plunge. "Where are you staying, Ziva?" The confused look the Israeli gave him was very convincing, at least. "Abby goes to your apartment three or four times a week, you never open your door. Even _you_ can't ignore Abby when she goes on for that long. So obviously you're not _at_ your apartment. So where are you?"

"Good use of investigative skills, McGee. Did you ever stop to think maybe I _am_ capable of ignoring Abby, though?"

"No one's capable of ignoring Abby."

The elevator dinged as it arrived at the ground floor and the doors slid open. "I am," Ziva said simply as she walked out, leaving McGee behind.

* * *

She hadn't been lying when she had told Gibbs that she hadn't been trying to kill herself. Overdosing on sleeping pills had been unbelievably painful the first time she had attempted it. It was not an experience she wanted to repeat.

It wasn't wrong to wonder how things would be different if it had been her that was shot, not Tony. It was valid. _She_ had been the one the bullet was aiming for, after all. If Tony hadn't _stupidly_ pushed her out of the way, she would have been the one the gunman shot. That was how it would have gone down — how it _should_ have gone down.

So there was nothing wrong with wondering about what should have been.

However…there was _probably_ something wrong with wishing it had been her instead.

* * *

Gibbs arrived home at midnight to find Ziva in his basement, mindlessly sanding his boat. "Couldn't find the bourbon?" He asked as he sat down.

"Did not look. I was just trying to stay awake. Besides, I hate bourbon."

"Didn't stop you from draining over half a bottle last week."

"I learned my lesson." She let her arm, still holding the sandpaper, fall to her side, though she didn't turn to face Gibbs as she spoke. "You know as well as I do that this could very well turn into an undercover mission."

"I'm very aware."

Ziva rocked back on her heels for a moment, gripping the sandpaper tightly. "You do not want to send me," she finally said. It wasn't a question. She knew she was right.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because your only alternative if you do not want to send me is _Abby_. And I feel quite confident in saying you do not want to send _her_ out on to the streets to act like a prostitute."

"Well that's a good assumption. Still not a good reason as to why I should send _you_."

"You have never had a problem with sending me undercover on cases like this before."

"I've never had to worry about you having a death wish before."

"I do not have a death wish!" Ziva shouted, whirling around to glare at Gibbs, who regarded her calmly. "You do not trust me?" She demanded when she realized he wasn't going to say anything.

"I trust you with my life Ziva."

"Then what is the problem?"

Gibbs sighed as he stood up, walking over to Ziva and wrapping his fingers around her wrist and gently forcing her to raise her arm. He used his other hand to unwrap her fingers from around the sandpaper she was tightly gripping; the paper had broken her skin, was now stained with blood. "I don't think I trust you with your own," he said simply, taking the sandpaper and throwing it away.

Ziva looked down at her hand, at the smears of blood. Her stomach turned as she momentarily flashed back to sitting in the hospital, waiting to hear about Tony, her hands painted red with _his_ blood…

"Take care of your hand and go to bed. I need you and McGee well rested tomorrow." He let her arm fall gently back to her side and stepped away. "Go."

Ziva stared at him for a long time before she turned and went upstairs.

* * *

Cold, early morning air whipped past Ziva as she ran, cooling the sweat that made its way down her face. She ran a different route than she had the morning of Tony's funeral; what made her make that decision, she couldn't really figure out. But when she exited Gibbs' house after only a few hours of fitful sleep to go on her morning run, she went in the direction opposite of the one she had taken weeks earlier.

It had been just after four a.m. when she had left. Now it was almost six, Ziva wasn't sure how far she had run, and she had no clue when she had chosen a destination.

But when she came upon the cemetery, she realized she had been coming here all along.

Her lungs were burning, her legs screaming in protest as she walked through the cemetery. Despite the fact that she hadn't been here since the funeral, she still knew exactly where she was going. Her damned memory wouldn't allow her to forget _any_ aspect of that day.

The sight of his name, the date of birth and death, carved into the granite stone brought to life the tears Ziva felt as if she spent ninety-nine percent of her time these days fighting back. Her fingers balled into fists, arousing pinpoints of pain when her nails accidentally dug into the cuts the sandpaper had caused the night before.

"Hello Tony," she mumbled, her voice thick. "I am…sorry I have not come to visit sooner. It has been a…hectic month. And I have…I will admit, I have been avoiding you. Do not feel bad though. It took me six months to bring myself to face Tali's grave. To this day I still have not gone to see Ari. I am not sure what that says about me…or you." Ziva pressed her lips together, dragging her hand quickly across her eyes. "You have…not missed much. It has been business as usual at NCIS, Vance tried to replace you, that…did not work out well. I am sure he will be looking in to bringing in another replacement soon. I promised Gibbs I would be on my best behavior for the next one. I would hate to break a promise to him. But I…I do not think I can handle another replacement. I took your desk, so at least I will not have to look at the wrong person sitting there, but I do not think I can work with another person. I keep thinking it will get better, I will wake up one morning and I will magically be back to normal. Gibbs says it does not work like that, but I…I wish it would." She swallowed hard, not bothering to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall. "I wish I could make this go away. I wish I could be like I was before. I wish…I wish I could stop loving you."

Her tired legs finally quit, giving out from beneath her and causing her to sink to the ground in front of the stone. The cold air whipped around her, causing her loose strands of hair to flutter to around in her line of vision, and turning cold the sweat that coated her face. She shivered involuntarily. "I…do not know how much longer I can live like this, Tony," she whispered, unable to make herself speak any louder. "I have never felt like this before. Not with Michael, not even with Roy…" She shook her head, resting a hand against the gravestone. "And I just do not know how much longer I can go on like this."

* * *

"Hey Ziva, it's McGee…again…um, I know this is like the eighth time I've called…maybe you can take a hint…we're kinda worried about you here, so just call me when you get this, if you don't mind or um…just come in. All right, bye."

McGee sighed as he hung up the phone. It was almost ten. And it wasn't like Ziva couldn't take care of herself, but _jeez _was she late…

Gibbs looked calmly around Ziva's apartment, surveying the destruction he had previously only heard stories about. Considering what he knew Ziva was capable of, he was surprised it wasn't worse.

He drove back to Tony's apartment, no longer expecting that he would find Ziva in any of these places. But he was out of options.

He finally arrived back at his own house to see that Ziva wasn't there — of course. But this time, neither was her car.

McGee's head snapped up as the elevator dinged, right as he was picking up his phone to call Ziva again. And there she was.

_Thank God_.

"Ziva!" McGee jumped up without really thinking, moving around his desk and making his way over to the woman. "Where have you been, I've been calling—"

"I know, I got your messages. And you called _twelve_ times, by the way."

"Oh. Sorry." He rubbed the back of his head, blushing a bit as he surveyed his co-worker. Her hair was hanging around her face in loose, limp curls, damp from what McGee could only guess was a shower. "You're late. We were worried."

"I overslept, McGee. It happens." Ziva went to sit down, hoping that could be the end of the discussion. As if McGee would let it go that easily.

"Ziva it's almost ten-thirty."

"I was tired, obviously. Let it go. I have been late before."

"Last time you were _this_ late you it was because you were on the run from the FBI, NCIS, and Mossad," McGee reminded Ziva evenly.

"And thank you so much for bringing up that memory. Clearly I am _not_ on the run from any of those organizations, I am sitting at my desk trying to work. So I repeat: let it _go_."

McGee sighed as he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere. He surrendered, deciding to go down to Abby and let her know there was no longer a crisis. And leaving Ziva completely alone in the bullpen when Gibbs arrived; she could almost _see_ the steam billowing out of the man's ears.

"Where the _hell_ were you?" He demanded as he stormed into the bullpen. Ziva stood up, staying calm as she answered.

"I overslept."

"I looked for you at my house, your apartment, _and_ DiNozzo's apartment. Whatever you were doing, I know you weren't sleeping at _any_ of those places. So let's try again: _where were you_?"

She should have known her lame excuse wouldn't work. "Fine. I went for a run this morning, I could not sleep. I…ended up running to the cemetery where…where Tony is buried."

If Gibbs had been the kind of man to express emotion, his mouth would have been on the floor. "Ziva that's twelve miles from my house."

"I am very aware…now." Gibbs just shook his head. "By the time I arrived back at your house it was after nine and I was exhausted. I rested for a little while and then took a shower. I…probably should have answered when McGee called."

"Ya think?"

"I apologize for that. It was just easier to hurry and get ready than to worry about explaining myself over the phone."

Before Gibbs could say anything, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it quickly, putting it to his ear. "Yeah, Gibbs." He listened for a moment. "Be right down." He hung up again, sweeping his eyes over Ziva for a moment. "Abby's got something, let's go."

Ziva followed him to the elevator.

"…So we narrowed it down. We have three possible places where he might strike next."

Ziva and Gibbs looked at the blinking dots on the computer screen map in front of them. "I personally think _this_ one is most likely," Abby said, moving the mouse around the area she was talking about. "It's near about three bars, in case the guy decides he wants to get drunk before he goes out and kills someone."

"Then that's where we're starting, isn't it?"

Ziva looked pointedly at Gibbs, who sighed heavily. "Abby how soon can you have a microphone installed in a hair clip?"

"Ten steps ahead of you," Abby said as she sprang into action. Gibbs turned to Ziva, nodding towards the door, and they headed out into the hall.

"I don't like this," Gibbs said as soon as they were out of earshot of McGee and Abby.

"I can tell," Ziva replied dryly. "Gibbs…you can trust me. I will not mess this up."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Ziver."

Ziva pressed her lips together, thinking about the best way to put what she was about to say. "It will be okay, Gibbs."

The man raised a hand, resting it for a moment on Ziva's shoulder. "You're not allowed to die, Ziva. Don't forget."

"Do not worry."

It wasn't really a lie, Ziva reasoned as she watched Gibbs walk away. It _would _ be okay — it really would be.

It just so happened that Gibbs' perception of _okay_ might just be different from Ziva's.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Now we're getting into the part of the story that I'm excited about. Hopefully you all are too. Review please! — Sam


	8. Never Alone

_I cried out with no reply  
__And I can't feel you by my side  
__So I'll hold tight to what I know  
__You're here and I'm never alone_

_And though I cannot see you  
__And I can't explain why  
__Such a deep, deep reassurance  
__You've placed in my life…_

* * *

_**Scene Eight — Never Alone**_

"Any minute now…"

Tony fidgeted, peaking around the driver's seat again. They had been sitting outside this dive of a diner for nearly an hour, waiting for "Smith," who had agreed to meet with Alex to discuss him becoming a boss (which they were currently low on after so many had become paranoid and quit) after what Alex had called a "glowing" recommendation from his own boss.

"Is this guy coming or not?"

"Shut up DiNozzo," the other three of the occupants of the car hissed. They would all be _very_ happy when they could shove this guy back off on Gibbs. Tony would just be happy when this night was over. Because two months be damned, if this thing tonight fell through, he was _done_. He wanted to go home. To sleep in his own bed. To have Gibbs head-slap him and Abby crush him to death. To tease McGee…to see Ziva.

He just wanted to go home.

"_Carter._"

Everyone snapped to attention as the sound of someone talking to Alex traveled down the line of the microphone the undercover agent was wearing. Cassie quickly picked up the camera and zoomed in on the two men that had approached Alex in the diner.

After everything that had happened, Tony was expecting something a bit more dramatic than what he actually got. They waited for Smith to give Carter all the details that came along with being a "boss" of the pushers, and then for him to take out the drugs to distribute…

"Move!" Conrad snapped, throwing the car door open, not bothering to wait for the other agents to follow suit before taking off towards the diner.

And really that was it. They invaded the diner, guns drawn, shouting "federal agents" for half the world to hear. Smith and his companion drew guns; Alex tackled Smith from behind while Tyler disarmed the companion.

And that was it. Tony watched as the two were cuffed and read their rights. He felt as if he was flying. First thing tomorrow he would be going _home_. Home to his team. His friends.

Ziva.

Tony was surprised he didn't _float_ out of the diner.

* * *

"Gibbs is worried."

Ducky looked over at Abby, who was staring at her computer screen, chewing the straw protruding out of her Caf-Pow cup. It was getting late; towards the time when both of them would normally be going home. But it was the third night of Ziva going undercover, and for some reason both Ducky and Abby felt the need to be near NCIS, near each other, in case something happened.

"He won't say it, but I could see it in his eyes when he was getting ready to go and drop Ziva off. I don't think he likes sending Ziva under cover."

"I do not think he does either," Ducky agreed quietly. "He didn't have much of a choice in the matter though."

_"You'll be careful, right?" Abby demanded as she helped Ziva fix the hair clip so the hidden cam would have a good view of anyone that stood in front of her. Abby stepped back to test it out, her eyes flitting to the laptop the cam was wired to._

_"Of course."_

_"Do you promise?" Abby pushed stubbornly. Ziva made a face at Abby, as if she didn't understand why the Goth was being so insistent about this._

_"_Yes_, Abby. Do not worry, everything will be okay." Abby stared at Ziva for a moment before springing forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her friend's neck._

_"You can't die," she murmured thickly, rubbing her eyes. "We can't lose you too, okay? So don't die."_

_"Abby, I have gone under cover before and nothing has happened." That wasn't strictly true and they both knew it, but Abby didn't bother correcting her. "What makes you think this time will be so different?"_

_"I'm just…_scared_, Ziva. I don't want anything to happen to you."_

_Ziva sighed as she raised her arms to return the hug. "It will be okay."_

_Abby rubbed her eyes one more time before stepping back from Ziva, looking the woman up and down with a critical eye._

_"Ziva?"_

_"Yes Abby?"_

_Abby's face split into a wide grin as she tried to push away the worry she was feeling. "You look totally hot."_

_Ziva laughed_.

Abby groaned as her Caf-Pow hit bottom; she tossed the cup moodily into the trash, kicking the trash basket lightly. "It'd be great if Gibbs came strolling in with another Caf-Pow right when I really needed one." Ducky rested a hand on Abby's shoulder, smiling lightly. "I wish he would come in," Abby sighed, looking over her shoulder at the entrance. "If he was here that would mean they were back, and everybody was safe. I really need everybody to safe. I don't think we can handle losing another person."

"We won't," Ducky assured the worried woman. "Nobody else is going to die, Abby."

Neither of them called him on the fact that he couldn't legitimately make that promise.

* * *

Ziva resisted the urge to rock back on her heels; she couldn't risk looking nervous, not to mention with the heels she was wearing, she was fairly certain if she were to rock back she would fall over.

"Hey babe." She turned quickly as a man approached her. He was shorter than her, wearing a leather jacket, with floppy, sandy brown hair, and clearly drunk. "How 'bout coming home with me for the night? I'll make it worth your while."

Ziva pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "I am too much for you," she promised the man, earning herself a disgusted look.

"Bitch," he muttered as he shuffled away. A low laugh echoed down the earwig Ziva was wearing, hidden in her hair.

"_Nice, Ziva_."

"_Focus McGee_," Gibbs reprimanded the younger man stiffly. Ziva smirked a bit, letting her eyes wander up and down the mostly empty street. Three nights of standing on different street corners, trying to lure out their killer. Three nights of getting hit on and sending disappointed, disgruntled men packing. No one even _close_ to matching the vague description they had of their suspect had approached Ziva.

_"I don't like it when you go undercover," Tali sighed as Ziva prepared to leave. "No one is going to take care of you if you are undercover."_

_"No one would take care of me even if I was with a team, Tali," Ziva reminded her sister gently._

_"But at least if you are with a team you will be _with_ people. If you get hurt undercover, nobody is going to try and help you."_

_Ziva looked at Tali for a moment, taking in the girl's clearly worried face before she held her arms out. Tali took the offer at once, throwing herself into Ziva's outstretched arms and hugging her tightly. "You do not have to worry," she promised, smoothing Tali's hair back. "I am not going to get hurt. Nobody has ever taught me to die…"_

_"So that means you cannot," Tali finished in a whisper, pulling away from Ziva and wiping her eyes. "But still…be careful, Zi-Zi."_

_"Always, Li-la."_

She had never noticed before just how similar Talia and Abby were. Affectionate, sometimes clingy, but a heart of gold rivaled by nobody. Ziva wouldn't deny that she was glad Abby had gotten over her original hate, had given the Israeli a chance to be her friend.

_Stop acting like you are going to die_, a voice in the back of Ziva's head spoke up, momentarily distracting her. _Gibbs and McGee are right around the corner, if anything goes wrong they will be right here to help you. Everything will be fine_.

Then why did she feel like everything was going to go completely wrong?

_"You could have been killed."_

_Tony looked over at Ziva, who was staring at the plasma, still chewing on the straw of her drink. "Sorry…what?"_

_"You. You were an idiot. You went all the way to Somalia, you could have _died_, and for what?"_

_Tony set aside the mostly empty popcorn bowl (popcorn _he_ had been mostly eating), and sat up straight to face Ziva, who refused to look at him now. "For you," he said simply, and for a moment Ziva felt as if they were back in Tel Aviv, facing off outside of the Mossad headquarters. But she wasn't about to drop Tony to the ground, wasn't about to pull a gun and press it to his chest and contemplate shooting._

_"That is the worst reason I have ever heard."_

_"Seems like a damn good reason to me," Tony replied with a shrug. Ziva shook her head, realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with him, and closed her eyes, trying in vain to fight off the headache blossoming on the edge of her consciousness. If she was honest (not that she ever was) she would admit that she had been having a hard time sleeping since the last time Tony had tried to bring up Somalia. And now she was here, bringing it up all on her own._

_She must have been crazy._

_"I…never thanked you, did I?"_

_Tony seemed taken aback by the question. "Um…I didn't realize you had anything _to_ thank me for."_

_"Saving my life is a good reason to thank you, is it not?"_

_Tony stared at Ziva for a moment, his face more serious than Ziva could ever remember seeing it. "I was under the impression you were never _really_ thankful for that."_

_Ziva pressed her lips together, considering this for a moment. "I am," she admitted finally, shifting her eyes to look at the floor. "It took a while to get to that point, but…I am."_

_They were silent for a moment. "Good," Tony finally said; he was smiling slightly. "I would hate for you to be angry at me because you're alive."_

_Ziva shook her head; he was missing the point. "You could have died," she reminded him pointedly, bringing them back to the original topic of the conversation. She was surprised when Tony chuckled hollowly._

_"Ziva I thought you were dead. What makes you think I _wanted_ to get out of there alive?"_

She'd never responded to that. There were so many things that should have been said, so many things he had said that she should have responded to. For the love of god, she had never even _thanked_ him for all the things he had done for her. What kind of partner was she? What kind of friend, what kind of _person _was she?

"Hey there pretty lady."

It was a rough jerk back to reality; Ziva blinked a couple of times, her head whipping around to face the man who had approached her.

"How much s'it gonna cost to get a night with you?"

* * *

To say Tony was pissed when he _finally_ got back to NCIS, at nearly ten minutes of eleven at night, would have been a _severe _understatement. Conrad's god damned team had blown him off, claiming they had too much work to do to bother driving out to the safe house to bring Tony home. Son of a bitches…

The bullpen was empty when Tony walked by it. He looked at his desk, then shifted his eyes first to McGee's, then Gibbs' before his gaze finally landed on Ziva's. He smiled, a bit stupidly, as he thought about how great it would be to be back behind his desk, looking across the bullpen at Ziva, watching her work when he was sure she wasn't looking…

"Come on DiNozzo, director wants to see you."

Not that Vance really had much to say. He thanked Tony for his sacrifice, offered him the next week off, and promised to take care of everything with Gibbs the next time he saw the man. Everything had been moving so damn fast since they had taken down Smith. Tony wasn't quite sure what to do with himself at this point.

Well he knew _one_ thing he could do. So Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee had all apparently jumped ship for the night. He knew for sure that his favorite Goth, at least, would still be in her lab.

* * *

"_Easy Ziva_," Gibbs murmured as Ziva allowed the man they believed was their suspect to lead her into a nearby alley.

"I haven't seen you around before. You're new?"

"Only around here," Ziva replied with a seductive smile. "If you are worried I am not worth what you are paying me…"

"Oh I'm sure you are." The man smirked, his eyes sweeping along Ziva's overly exposed body. He made a noise in the back of his throat before gently pushing her against the wall. And then he was kissing her, and Ziva could taste alcohol, and it took everything she had in her not to push him away. She swept her hands over his thighs, smirking when she felt something hard in his pockets.

"Mm…" She murmured as he pulled away. "You are happy about this, I assume?"

The man chuckled.

_"For your information that's my knee."_

Ziva stiffened, momentarily freezing, and the man looked down at her, confusion sweeping over his features. "Something wrong babe?"

"_Just give the signal Ziva and we're there_."

Not yet. She didn't know for sure that this was actually him. She couldn't do anything. Not yet. Ziva forced herself to relax.

"No. Nothing at all."

* * *

"I'm really worried about her, Ducky."

Tony stopped as he walked into the lab. Abby was there, along with Ducky. They were both standing with their backs to the door, staring at a blank computer screen. "Ziva can take care of herself, Abby," Ducky tried to reassure the woman, and Tony's stomach flipped a bit at the mention of Ziva's name. "She'll be okay."

"Do you think so?"

"What's wrong with Ziva?"

Tony said the words without really thinking, without realizing that a, neither Ducky nor Abby knew he was standing there, and b, neither Ducky nor Abby knew he was _alive_. But the idea of Ziva possibly being in some kind of danger was enough to make him forget both those things.

The reaction was comical, at least. Both of them jumped a mile and whirled around, one of Ducky's aged hands flying to his chest to cover his heart, Abby covering her mouth with both her hands to muffle her scream. Both of them stared at Tony for a long time, their eyes wide with shock and possibly a little bit of fear.

"Y-You…you're…you…" Ducky couldn't seem to string a sentence together. Abby took an unsteady step forward, looking as if she was about to collapse. Tony held still, afraid of spooking her. When she was close enough to him she reached a hand out, touching it to his cheek, his forehead, his hair…

"You're alive," she whispered as she realized she could actually _feel_ him under her fingers. "You're…not dead. Oh my god you're _alive_."

And with that she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Too tightly. "O-Ow…ow Abby, _air_…"

Abby pulled away suddenly, allowing air to whoosh back into Tony's lungs. He had two seconds to be relieved…until a surprisingly strong fist connected with his chest. "Hey!" Tony started to protest, but he was cut off by Abby hitting him again, this time in the shoulder.

"You…" She aimed a punch at his stomach; it hurt more than he was expecting. "Absolute." Another fist to the arm. "_Bastard_." She landed her final punch against his ribs before planting both hands firmly on his chest and shoving him backwards.

"_Abby_!" Tony grabbed her wrists, trying to hold her still. "Okay, I get it, you're angry. I'm sorry, okay? Do you really need to beat me for it though?"

"Be quiet!" Abby snapped, much to Tony's surprise. She yanked her hands back, taking a step back and glaring Tony down. "Bastard," she hissed again, as if all other words had failed her.

"Abby," Ducky finally murmured, stepping towards the woman and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Give him a chance to explain—"

"Explain? Ex_plain_? How can he _possibly_ explain—?"

"Abby it was an undercover mission!" Tony finally said, a little louder than necessary yes, but it was the only way she was going to listen to him. Abby froze, her eyes widening as she returned her full attention to Tony.

"Under…cover?" Tony nodded slowly. "You…had to go undercover…as a _dead_ person?"

"_Yes_…" Tony sighed as he proceeded to explain the details of the mission. Ducky and Abby listened silently, the latter torn now between fury and horror, the former listening with a more thoughtful, but clearly upset expression.

"So it was all a lie?" Abby finally concluded, her voice cracking. Tony nodded. "Did _Gibbs_ know?" She demanded after a moment, fury returning to her tone.

"No, Abby. Nobody knew except Vance and Agent Conrad and his team."

Abby looked over her shoulder at Ducky, who regarded her with his calm expression. After a moment she looked back at Tony with tears in her eyes. "Abby…"

"Do you," she whispered, her voice shaking dangerously, "have _any_ idea what this has done, Tony? What you _being dead_ did? To this team? To _Ziva_? Did you even think before you agreed to this?"

Tony stared at Abby for a moment, unable to think of a way to respond to what she had said. Only one thing had really stood out in her monologue: _Ziva_.

"What's wrong with Ziva?" He finally asked. Abby just glared, as if the answer would somehow come to him through her eyes.

The sound of Abby's cell-phone vibrating against a metal table broke the silence, and Abby quickly went to answer it. Tony turned on Ducky. "What's been going on while I was gone, Ducky?" He demanded as calmly as he could.

"Well, Tony…I'm not really sure how to answer that, quite honestly. A lot has happened." Before Tony could retort, a loud gasp caught both of their attentions, and they turned to look at Abby just in time to see her arm drop to her side, her cell-phone clattering to the floor.

"What's wrong?" Tony demanded, instantly alarmed, as Ducky went to pick the cellphone up.

"Hello…Timothy, what's wrong?" McGee. Tony waited, his breath held, as Ducky listened to what was being said on the other line. "Okay…we'll be right there, Tim. Thank you." He hung up, his face taking on a rather disturbed look. And was _that_ guilt Tony saw in his eyes?

"Ziva was stabbed."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So before I get yelled at for killing Ziva right as Tony came back, please keep in mind that a) I never said she was dead and b) I'm too much of a softie to kill my favorite characters - I just emotionally and sometimes physically beat 'em up. So please don't be angry? And review please ? — Sam


	9. Anthem of the Angels

_Days go on forever  
__But I have not left your side  
__We can chase the dark together  
__If you go then so will I_

_There is nothing left of you  
__I can see it in your eyes  
__Sing the anthem of the angels  
__And say the last goodbye  
__I keep holding onto you  
__But I can't bring you back to life  
__Sing the anthem of the angels  
__Then say the last goodbye_

* * *

_**Scene Nine — Anthem of the Angels**_

Gibbs sipped mindlessly at his coffee, not even caring that it was the crappy hospital coffee that he hated. He swirled the contents of the cup, listening to them slosh against the Styrofoam.

_You should have moved sooner. Screw her signal. You knew where it was going._

"Gibbs!"

He wasn't surprised when Abby's panicked voice carried down the hall towards him and McGee. He _was_, however, surprised when he looked up and saw not only Abby and Ducky, but _Tony_ rushing towards them as well. McGee's eyes widened as he jumped up, nearly knocking the coffee out of Gibbs' hand.

"Have you heard anything?" Ducky asked as Abby threw herself into McGee's arms, hugging him tightly. McGee looked over Abby's shoulder, his wide eyes landing on Tony. Gibbs ignored Ducky's question, mostly because he had a negative answer. That could wait. The dead man standing behind Ducky held a little more priority.

"DiNozzo…you have ten seconds to explain why your corpse isn't rotting in the cemetery where we buried it."

Tony swallowed, clearly nervous. "Uh…yeah, boss, Vance was supposed to talk to you about that, actually…"

"Well Vance isn't here. You are. Nine seconds."

If he didn't start explaining soon, heads were going to roll. One in particular. "It was an undercover mission," Tony said quickly. "Agent Conrad and his team, they were tracking a drug ring, we got caught up in it, when I was shot they decided to kill me off to make everyone nervous. And it…it worked."

Gibbs listened to Tony's explanation with a stoic expression. McGee took a different approach; he listened to Tony with a look of growing incredulity. When Tony was done, McGee gently eased away from Abby, stepping around her and walking to stand toe to toe with Tony.

"Yeah Probe—?"

He was cut off by McGee's knuckles connecting with his cheek. "McGee!" Abby squeaked, her voice cracking. As if she herself hadn't punched Tony less than an hour before. Ducky and Gibbs were less surprised than he was.

"Why the hell does everyone feel the need to punch me?" Tony demanded as he straightened up, rubbing what would soon be a very bruised area. McGee shook his hand out, flexing his fingers experimentally to make sure they weren't broken.

"Gibbs?" Abby spoke up, turning to the older man. "What about Ziva?"

Gibbs turned away from Tony, focusing his attention on the woman. "She's in surgery now, Abs. Single stab wound to the abdomen."

"But…_how_?"

_"Just give the signal Ziva and we're there."_

Gibbs pressed his lips together, looking down at the coffee cup in his hands before giving up and tossing it into the trash.

"She played me."

_"Lost visual," McGee informed Gibbs with a hint of worry in his voice. "He pulled the hair clip out of her hair. Still have the audio."_

_"Little anxious there, aren't you babe?" They heard the suspect ask. Gibbs and McGee exchanged looks._

_"Boss—"_

_Gibbs was already moving. He threw the car door open and jumped out, taking off down the street, already drawing his gun. McGee was right behind him._

_"Federal agents!" Gibbs shouted as he tore into the alley, gun raised. The man, who still had Ziva pinned to the wall, reacted instantly, turning to run as Ziva crumpled to the ground. Gibbs reacted as well; his bullet landed true in the man's leg, dropping him with a shout of pain. Gibbs didn't like when he looked over and saw that Ziva still hadn't picked herself up. "McGee take care of him," Gibbs ordered as he holstered his gun, moving to kneel down beside Ziva. She moaned when Gibbs turned her over; his heart jumped into his throat when he saw the blood stain forming on her dress._

_"Damn it! McGee, call an ambulance, _now_!"  
_

_He pressed a hard hand to Ziva's stomach, trying to stem the bleeding and ignoring the pained groan that forced its way past her lips. His other hand found hers, and he squeezed her fingers tightly._

_"G-Gibbs," she mumbled, her voice thick and barely understandable. Before she could attempt to say anything else, she started coughing, hard; a wet, gurgling sound accompanied the cough. Gibbs untangled his hand from hers, reaching up and gently guiding her head to the side. As the coughing fit continued, blood spattered against the ground._

_"McGee, _ambulance_!" Gibbs snapped over his shoulder._

_"On their way boss!"_

_"Gibbs." Ziva's voice cracked as she tried again to speak. She raised a hand weakly, resting it over the one Gibbs had pressed against her stomach. "I…I am sorry," she managed to mumble, squeezing her eyes shut._

_"Don't apologize," Gibbs said automatically before reminding himself to keep his panic in check. Panic wasn't going to help anyone now._

_Ziva laughed weakly; the laugh turned into another painful sounding cough. "Will you be angry if I disobey orders?" She managed to ask as she relaxed into the feeling of Gibbs smoothing her hair back._

_"You won't if you know what's good for you," Gibbs informed her dryly. She managed a small smile as she let her eyes flutter close._

_"Ziva…hey! _Ziva_!"_

"I knew letting her do this was a bad idea," Gibbs muttered, more to himself than to the people standing around him. He had let Ziva play him. He had known from the start that letting Ziva do this undercover thing would end badly. But he had allowed himself to be convinced.

And this was the result.

"Is she going to be okay?" Abby hiccoughed after a moment, rubbing her eyes. McGee stepped towards her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly.

"She's Ziva. She'll be fine."

Tony watched McGee and Abby for a long time before turning to look at Gibbs, who seemed determined not to give his senior agent a second glance. Ducky was the only one who appeared to be willing to give Tony the time of day.

"Are you okay, Anthony?"

With the questioned posed, Tony realized he was crying; nothing extreme. But there were tears running down his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He dragged a hand across his eyes, attempting to dry the tears. After all, DiNozzos didn't cry.

"McGee and I have to get back to the crime scene," Gibbs was saying when Tony tuned back into reality. "Call us when you know something."

"Of course."

McGee glared at Tony before he left. Gibbs didn't even look at him. Tony wasn't sure which gesture hurt more.

* * *

It was absolutely _painful_, waiting to hear news about Ziva. There wasn't a lot of talking; no one could think of anything to say. Abby cried silently, her head resting on Tony's shoulder (she, at least, seemed to have forgiven him). Ducky sat on Abby's left, his eyes on the floor. Tony let his head fall back against the wall so he was staring at the ceiling.

_She can't die. She _can't _die damn it. I can't lose her. Not now. Please._

He wasn't completely sure who he was talking to.

_Ziva David was dead._

_Even as Tony drained his sixth or seventh beer of the night, the fact still stung. He could still hear Gibbs announcing that the Damocles had gone down, that there had been no survivors. He could hear Abby break down crying, could hear McGee's mechanical, automatic comforts._

_Ziva David was dead._

_Tony thought about the last time he'd seen her, nearly three months earlier now. When she had been angry enough to throw him to the ground and press a gun to his chest. She had told Gibbs she didn't trust Tony. He should have hated her for that._

_He shouldn't _care_ that she was dead._

_But he did._

_A lot._

"You jeopardized your entire career, and for what?"

"For you."

_For her. Everything that had happened, every decision Tony had made since Michael Rivkin had come into the picture, it had all been for Ziva. To protect Ziva._

_And yet all he had managed to do was drive her to her death_.

"Tony!"

The man jumped as he jerked awake; he didn't even remember falling asleep. Abby and Ducky were standing over him, along with a short, dark-skinned woman wearing blue scrubs.

Tony jumped up, his heart skipping a beat. "Ziva?"

The doctor smiled softly. "The surgery went well, though Ms. David _does_ have a long road of recovery ahead of her. There was an extensive amount of damage to her stomach, and we had to remove part of her spleen. I feel confident in saying she will make a full recovery, though."

Tony's knees felt weak with relief. Abby threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, while Ducky murmured, "Thank god."

"Can we see her?" Tony asked, ignoring the others completely.

"She's in Recovery right now, when we move her into a room, I'll send a nurse to get you."

Tony nodded, his voice failing him. Ducky took over, thanking the doctor before she left and pulling out his cellphone, presumably to call Gibbs. Tony looked at his watch. Five-twenty-three a.m. Six hours, seven minutes, and roughly twenty-five seconds had passed since Tony had first re-entered NCIS.

It was amazing how quickly things could go wrong.

They had to wait another half an hour for a nurse to bring them up to Ziva's room. Tony felt as if his knees were going to give out from beneath him when his eyes found the woman in the bed.

She looked so small, buried in the overwhelming white of the sheets and pillows. Her hair was spread loosely, limply on the pillow, her skin startlingly pale, save for the deep, dark circles under her eyes.

"Oh," Abby whispered, her voice catching. Tony couldn't bring himself to speak. He moved forward shakily, reaching a hand out and resting it over Ziva's own, smaller hand.

_Ziva_…

Abby dragged a chair over to Tony, and he collapsed into it, wrapping his other hand around Ziva's as well.

* * *

Tony felt the eyes on the back of his head long before he called the watcher out.

"Hey, boss."

Abby was asleep, curled up in a tight ball in the chair on the other side of Ziva's bed. Ducky had left half an hour earlier with a promise to return with food.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs greeted the man curtly. After a moment of silence, "I talked to Vance and Conrad."

Tony didn't look away from Ziva as he spoke. "And am I still in trouble?"

A sharp slap to the head was the answer to Tony's question. "Boss—"

"Shut up DiNozzo." Gibbs sounded angry now. Tony tightened his grip on Ziva's hand for a moment before releasing her and standing to face Gibbs.

"What are you mad about?" He demanded, sounding braver then he felt. "Are you mad I went on a mission without clearing it with you? Are you mad I pretended to be dead and lied to you for a month and a half?"

"Yes. Yes and yes."

"Well what do you want? An apology?"

"No."

Tony was starting to lose his patience. What the hell was Gibbs' _problem_? "Then _what_?"

Tony cringed as Gibbs hit him again. "I want you to realized the consequences of all this. _Think _DiNozzo. What did you think you being _dead_ would do to the people closest to you?"

Not exactly the answer Tony was expecting. "I…I figured you guys would be upset, I knew it would probably hurt Abby a lot, but I figured everyone would…move on. Like after Kate."

"And Ziva?"

The question threw Tony off. "Ziva?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo. Ziva. Five-something feet tall, dark hair, brown eyes, former Mossad assassin, lying in the hospital bed behind you because she was _stabbed_—"

"What _about_ Ziva, boss?" Tony interrupted, losing his patience with the man's dry sarcasm.

"What do you think you being dead has done to _her_?"

Tony opened his mouth to respond…then closed it. Then opened it again. He looked over his shoulder at Ziva, who was still sleeping under the influence of drugs and blood loss, then back at Gibbs, who was watching him expectantly. "She…She was supposed to just move on," he mumbled stupidly, rubbing the back of his head. "I mean…she's _Ziva_. How else would she have handled it?"

Gibbs shook his head; if he had looked angry before, it was _nothing_ compared to the look he had on his face now. "You're lucky McGee punched you. Because if he hadn't I swear to God I _would_ have."

Tony was suddenly very grateful McGee had taken the initiative earlier. "What happened?" He finally asked. He was a little afraid to know the answer. The look Gibbs gave Ziva intensified this fear.

"Nothing good."

Tony huffed; well that was anti-climactic. "Can I have an example?"

But Gibbs shook his head. "It isn't my story to tell, DiNozzo. If she wants you to know what happened, then she'll tell you." Tony didn't have an answer to that. "I'll tell you this though — thinking you were dead destroyed her. Slowly. Think about that."

He walked out without another word. Tony stared after him for a long time before turning back to Ziva, unable to think as he watched her.

No.

No. Ziva was supposed to be the _okay_ one. Abby was supposed to cry, Ducky was supposed to tell long, winded stories to cover up his grief, Gibbs was supposed to throw himself into his woodwork, McGee was supposed to throw himself into computers, and Ziva was supposed to be _fine_. She was the rock, the unmovable one, the one who didn't let anything stop her. She always moved forward. Yeah, she hurt for a little while. But she never let it affect her any more than what was strictly necessary. She wasn't supposed to be hurt. She wasn't supposed to be _destroyed_.

She was supposed to okay.

* * *

_Ziva tried not to cringe as the man ripped her hair piece out of her hair, dropping it the ground. She knew Gibbs and McGee were still waiting for her signal, but they would probably move once they realized they had lost their visual._

_Damn it._

_"Little anxious there, aren't you babe?" The man chuckled as Ziva moved her hands along his thigh, her trained fingers slipping expertly into his pocket without detection, the tips brushing against the handle of the buck-knife she'd known she would find there._

_"Are you?"_

_Her fingers curled around the knife._

_The next few seconds were lost to Ziva; the man finally realized she had found his weapon, and jerked away at once as she pulled it out of his pocket, finding the latch and flipping it open. "Bitch," he hissed, reacting differently than most people would when faced with weapon. He grabbed at her, large, iron-tight fingers wrapping her slim wrist and squeezing tightly, twisting her arm up. She gasped involuntarily, her fingers opening of her own accord, the knife slipping from her grip. The man slammed her against the wall, holding there with one hand as he stooped down, grabbing the knife._

_Then, he plunged it into her abdomen._

Ziva resisted the urge to moan as consciousness slowly reasserted itself. Pain burned through her stomach, an agonizing reminder that she had been stabbed. She could hear something beeping somewhere to her right; a heart monitor, she realized after a moment of thought. Of course. She was in a hospital. Gibbs wouldn't have allowed her to die.

Not that she had been trying to.

After a moment Ziva became aware of two things: one, somebody was speaking. Two, somebody was holding her hand.

"When do you think she's going to wake up?" It was Abby, of course. But that wasn't Abby's hand holding her, it was too big, too rough…not calloused enough to be Gibbs…but who?

"I don't know, Abs. Soon, hopefully."

If it wasn't for the fact the heart monitor kept going, Ziva would have been sure her heart had stopped. Oh God…oh _God_…

"It's been hours. Do you think it's bad she hasn't woken up yet?" Abby sounded tearful now. If Ziva hadn't been so focused on the voice she had just heard, she may have felt guilty for worry Abby so much.

"She'll wake up when she's ready. It's just a matter of how long that will take."

Abby was silent for a moment before mumbling, "I don't know if she'll ever be ready."

Silence fell again. Ziva's mind was racing. No, no, no. It wasn't possible. It _wasn't_…he was dead. She had watched him bleed out under her hands. She'd watched the life leave him in degrees. She'd gone to his god damn funeral. He was _dead_.

"Ziva?"

That was Abby, and Ziva found some relief in that. Abby. Abby was alive. It was okay for Abby to be talking to her. But the hand that brushed itself against her cheek, wiping away the tears she hadn't realized were falling…that was _not_ Abby.

"Ziva, hey…Zi, open your eyes. What's wrong?"

She was hallucinating. That was the only explanation. Ziva choked on a sob as the realization came to her. She was only hallucinating.

"Ziva—"

"It's you," Abby interrupted abruptly. "She doesn't know…I think you're scaring her."

Silence followed Abby's words. Suddenly the hand that was holding Ziva's pulled away, leaving her feeling strangely exposed, and Abby was speaking again, fast, as if what she had to say was too important to wait. "Ziva I know this is really weird, but something happened, something that you should really know about because things will make so much more sense when you know, so please…_please_ just open your eyes."

She complied unwillingly, forcing her eyes to open, blinking a couple of times when she realized tears were still blurring her vision. And there was Abby, leaning over her, smiling, a bit teary-eyed herself, though for an entirely different reason.

"Abby…" Ziva's voice cracked as she spoke, and she cringed inwardly. Abby's smile widened a bit.

"Don't try to talk, okay? Just…listen. Because I'm probably going to do a really bad job at explaining this, and Gibbs should really be the one to do it, but I don't know when he's coming back and you really need to know—"

"Abby."

Abby blinked as Ziva cut her off. "Right. Just explain." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "Ziva, there's something you have to know…about Tony. When he…died," Ziva tried not to cringe at the reminder, "it wasn't…it wasn't what any of us thought it was. One of the other team leaders, Agent…Conrad or something, he concocted this entire plan to use Tony getting shot as a way of furthering an investigation they were conducting. The…the plan was to pretend that Tony died, and use it for…something, I don't know, I kind of tuned out at this part in the explanation…"

Ziva stared at Abby for a long time, processing this information. "It…you mean…he…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Ziva."

She turned her head slowly. It seemed to take her eyes forever to find him.

He was standing against the wall, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his green eyes watching her with concern and guilt; when their eyes met, a small smile pulled at his lips.

"…Hey."

His voice slammed into Ziva like a steamroller.

_"Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?…You can't get rid of me that easily anyways…"_

Ziva's breathing sped up as the memory hit her. Tony took an uncertain step forward, reaching a hand out to her.

_She collapsed to her knees at the funeral, sobbing her heart out in front of colleagues and strangers…she threw Agent Timmons against the observation window, wrapping her hand around his neck and seriously contemplating killing him for the slight…she meticulously destroyed her apartment bit by bit, taking her anger out in the only way she knew how…she broke down sobbing over the picture of the two of them, the only thing she had left…she moved into his apartment, surrounded herself with everything about him…she overdosed on sleeping pills to escape reality…she went undercover, deliberately put herself in danger, tired of only half-living…_

"Stop."

Tony froze, his hand inches from Ziva's hair. Her voice was cold and rough, like nothing Tony had ever heard before, not even when she had been at her angriest. Even Abby was shocked by the tone.

"Z-Ziva?"

It hadn't been real. The thought danced in front of Ziva, taunting her, every bit as tangible as the hand still hovering over her head. As tangible as the very much alive man standing in front of her. _None of it had been real_.

"Get out." Ziva pushed herself into more of a sitting position, trying not to wince as pain lanced through her stomach. She refused to look at Tony, though she could imagine he was gaping at her, trying to figure out the best way to respond. "Get out. Now."

"Ziva, I—"

"Get. Out."

It took everything Ziva had in her not to call him back when he finally left.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I was absolutely astounded by the response I received last chapter. Thank you so, so, so much. I knew a lot of people were going to be very unhappy with Ziva getting hurt/possibly dying, so the fact that so many people reviewed was staggering. Thank you :)

Anyways, I know there are a lot of things that people want to happen. Some of them will at some point, some of them won't. Example: no Gibbs chewing Vance's ass out. As cool as it would be, I don't think I can do that kind of scene justice without making it totally OOC (which wouldn't be out of the norm considering this entire story, but…). I really would love to have a scene like that, but I'm not very good at writing Vance anyways — I'm sure you've noticed the lack of him in this story, despite the fact that he was running what would probably be considered a fairly big operation. Anyways, bit more Tony/Ziva next chapter, angst abound which I'm sure the masses are looking forward to. Review please? — Sam


	10. Permanent

_Will you think that you're all alone  
When no one's there to hold your hand?  
And all you know seems so far away  
__And everything is temporary, rest your head  
__I´m permanent_

* * *

_**Scene Ten — Permanent**_

Gibbs was surprised, when he walked past the waiting room, to see Tony sitting on the couch in the far corner, staring out the window. He was tempted to keep walking (he was still a little pissed off, after all), but the look on the younger man's face wasn't one Gibbs could ignore even at his coldest.

"Fancy seeing you here, DiNozzo."

Tony looked up as his boss walked over to him. "Hey boss…what's up?"

"That's my line. What are you doing out here? I figured you'd still be with Ziva."

At the mention of the Israeli, Tony's face fell, and his head dropped to look at the floor. "She uh…she threw me out."

"She's awake?" Strange that Abby hadn't called him…

"Yeah. Woke up about an hour ago. She was…kind of freaked out to see me. Abby explained the situation to her, and she…" Tony sighed, scrubbing his eyes hard. "She was pretty…I wanna say she was pissed off, but she didn't have her usual 'DiNozzo screwed up' look, I couldn't really tell what was going on in her head…anyways when I tried to talk to her she told me to get out. And the way she was looking at me…I couldn't argue with her."

"It's probably better you didn't argue," Gibbs agreed quietly. They sat in silence for a moment; Tony returned to staring out the window. "She broke down at your funeral."

Tony straightened up, his eyes widening as he looked back at Gibbs. "She _what_?" Ziva breaking down wasn't exactly an idea that jived in Tony's mind. Hearing that she had broken down _in public_ though…

"No. No way."

"I wasn't asking if you believed me. I'm telling you something that happened. Ziva broke down crying at your funeral. She spent a week ignoring how she was feeling and avoiding dealing with what had happened, and at the funeral she snapped. It only got worse from there." Tony stared at his boss for a long time, processing this bit information. Gibbs stared back for a moment before standing up and stretching. "I'm sure somewhere deep down she knows you aren't at fault for everything that happened. She was hurting though, DiNozzo, still is. Don't expect forgiveness to come easily."

Gibbs could tell, from the look on his agent's face, that forgiveness was the _last_ thing he expected.

"Gibbs!" Abby piped when Gibbs walked into Ziva's hospital room. Ziva looked up quickly to see Gibbs, and then ducked her head again, blushing lightly. More than anyone, Gibbs knew how bad the last month had been. How far Ziva had fallen. How weak she had become.

He was the last person she wanted to see _now_. Besides Tony, of course.

Tony. Who was alive. Not dead. Tony was alive. Ziva closed her eyes as her face burned more.

"Abby why don't you go downstairs and get something to eat." It wasn't a suggestion, and Abby knew better than to argue. She stood up, wrapping her arms lightly around Ziva before slipping out of the room, giving Gibbs a look that clearly said, _don't be too hard on her_.

It would have been incredibly convenient for a doctor to walk in right as Abby left. But when was life ever convenient for Ziva?

"Ziva," Gibbs prompted the younger woman, trying to get her attention. When she didn't look up, he tucked his fingers under her chin, gently forcing her head up. Their eyes met; Gibbs could see a world of hurt and pain and fear shining in her mahogany orbs.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Ziva finally pulled away. "You have my attention," she mumbled, turning her eyes down to stare at her fists, curled tightly around the blankets. Gibbs sighed quietly as he took the seat Tony had occupied for the better part of the day. "What do you want?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. I _want_ to yell at you for being so damn stupid, but I don't think the hospital is the most appropriate place to do that." Ziva's head snapped up to look at Gibbs, surprised.

"Exactly _what_ was I stupid about?"

"Going undercover. Dawdling as long as you did with the suspect. _Not_giving the signal for us to move in. Letting yourself be stabbed—"

"I did not _let_ myself be stabbed," Ziva protested at once. "I was…trying to get his knife out of his pocket so I could apprehend him—"

"That wasn't your _job_, though, Ziva. Your job was to confirm that he was who we thought he was then give the signal for us to move in. But you didn't. You acted on your own, and it nearly got you killed. And why do I have a feeling that's what you _wanted_?" Ziva pressed her lips together for a moment, considering her answer carefully.

"I did not go out there with the intention to die—"

"Then why _did_ you go?" Gibbs interrupted, not really in the mood to deal with her scripted responses. "What were you after, Ziva? Because clearly you weren't in it _just_ to catch a murderer. What were you thinking?"

Ziva knew that the honest answer — she'd planned on letting fate play its course — was going to get her nowhere. As it was Gibbs was going to have her in psych evaluations until she was as gray as him. There was no reason to give him any more ammo to work with. "I thought I could handle it on my own. I have fought men bigger than him before and won, I…overestimated myself. Or perhaps I underestimated him."

"Or _perhaps_ you weren't thinking at all. Which has been a common theme with you, as of late." Ziva winced at the reminder of her last stint in the hospital, and the reason behind it.

"It is…not what you think, Gibbs."

"Really?" Gibbs asked, slightly sarcastically. "Because right now I think you had a death wish. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You are wrong," Ziva replied at once, a bit sarcastically as well. She was tired of this conversation. Nothing she said was going to convince Gibbs he was anything other than right. Why was she wasting her time?

"Now _honestly_ tell me I'm wrong."

Ziva sighed heavily. "Gibbs I do not know _what_ you want me to say. I can argue with you until we are both green in the face—" That wasn't the expression, but whatever. Gibbs didn't bother to correct her, "but you and I both know you are not going to change what you are thinking. So what is the point?"

Gibbs stared at Ziva for a long time. "You're doing it again," he finally said, earning himself a confused look.

"Doing what?"

"Shutting down. Being cold and logical and trying to avoid how you feel. Remember where that landed you last time?" Ziva cringed once more at the reminder of the funeral. "Stop lying to me, Ziva. Stop avoiding what's going on in your headspace. Deal with it and move on."

Ziva didn't have an answer to that. She'd been struggling, with no help from Abby of course, to rebuild the walls that had been systematically destroyed since Tony's funeral. But the walls she had been building were weak now, crumbling even before Gibbs had come in.

And as tears filled her eyes, she realized these walls weren't going to save her this time. "I really was not trying to die," she whispered, her voice shaking.

"But if you had?" Gibbs prompted gently.

"I would not have minded."

She didn't let the tears fall, even as Gibbs moved to sit on the bed, gently taking her in his arms. She buried her faced in his jacket, her breathing shallow and stressed, sending lances of pain through her abdomen.

But she didn't let the tears fall.

Tony closed the door quietly, grateful enough to be walking away from this spy mission without getting caught. His head was spinning.

_"I really was not trying to die."_

_"But if you had?"  
_

_"I would not have minded."_

Tony didn't remember lifting his arm, but suddenly he was throwing his fist into the white plaster of the hospital wall. He barely cringed as a low crunch followed the blow, followed by pain he didn't quite register.

"Ow."

Tony's head snapped around to look at McGee, who was watching him with an even gaze. "It isn't the wall's fault, you know."

"No, but I can't punch Conrad or Vance," Tony growled. "Besides, the wall didn't suffer."

"No, but you're going to. You should have a doctor look at that." Tony pulled his fist away from the wall, flinching visibly when he tried to straighten his fingers.

"She wanted to die, McGee." No answer. This probably wasn't news to McGee, though. "She fucking _wanted_ to die; she went under cover with every intention of going back to NCIS in a god damn _body bag_. What was she _thinking_?"

"She was thinking she was in pain and she wanted it to stop."

Tony pressed his lips together, closing his eyes. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he whispered after a moment. "She…she was supposed to be _okay_, damn it. This wasn't supposed to happen."

And against everything…McGee felt _bad_ for his co-worker. No matter what had happened, Tony hadn't expected so much fall out from all of this. He hadn't expected his "death" to cause so much trouble. So much pain.

"I don't get it!" Tony burst out suddenly, surprising McGee. "She thought I was freakin' dead that one other time when my car blew up, she dealt with it just fine then!"

"Last time it was like for a couple of days," McGee reminded Tony. "And there wasn't a funeral. And she didn't think you died for _her_."

Tony's heart jumped into his throat as he thought, for the first time, about the last time he'd seen Ziva, when he had been shot, when she had been desperately trying to keep him awake, keep him from bleeding out. He remembered her eyes, wide with fear and pleading with him even as she told him to shut up.

He couldn't recall ever seeing her _that_ scared.

"It should have been her," McGee continued quietly. "Or that's how she saw it. In her exact words, 'the stupid moron pushed me out of the way and got himself shot.'"

"She called me a moron?"

"It sounded less insulting when she was close to tears." Tony swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. "I don't think she's in the most rational state of mind right now either, for the record. Give her time, Tony. Everything will be back to normal before you know it."

God Tony wished he could believe that.

* * *

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, much to the gratefulness of everyone's frayed nerves. Tony got his hand checked out and discovered he'd sprained two of his fingers. Oops. He allowed the doctor to wrap them up, avoiding questions about how it had happened.

Gibbs and McGee didn't stay for long, though the latter mercifully passed along a message to Ziva asking if Tony could come into the room. He seemed to regret returning with a negative answer.

Abby stayed with Ziva for the rest of the day; Ducky brought food her and Tony (who he was bewildered to find sitting in the waiting room), and stayed to visit for a little while as well. Ziva expertly dodged his questions about why Tony was in the waiting room, and Tony mumbled out less than satisfactory answers of his own. Ducky ended up calling Gibbs to get the entire story.

"Tony have you been home yet?" The man in question looked up at Abby, who was gazing at him with sad eyes. His first reaction was to panic, of course; he couldn't imagine any scenario in which Abby voluntarily left Ziva alone in the room. Abby seemed to guess at his panic. "The doctor's with her now, I thought I'd give her some privacy. And come see you."

Tony sighed as he relaxed again. "No, I haven't been home yet. And I have no intentions of going home until I know she's okay."

"She _is_ okay though, Tony. I mean…yeah, she's probably going to be here for a little while longer, but the doctor thinks she's past the worst of it." Tony didn't answer. He hadn't meant okay _physically_. Though of course Abby's reassurances were a bit of a bonus. "Go home, Tony. I can only imagine how much it hurts that she doesn't want to see you, but…she doesn't want to see you. And you're not going to accomplish anything by sitting out here."

"I'm not leaving, Abby."

And that was the end of the discussion. Abby sighed as she walked across the waiting room, sitting down on the couch and throwing her arms around Tony, hugging him tightly. Tony was momentarily thrown off; he managed to hug her back as he recovered himself. "I'm so glad you're not dead," she mumbled after a moment. If Tony hadn't been so miserable, he would have laughed at how ridiculous the statement sounded. "And I know she is too. She's just confused right now, and hurt. But when she has time to really think things through…you'll see. It'll all be okay."

"Do you really think that Abby?" Tony asked as he pulled away, taking careful sure to stare straight into the Goth's eyes.

"Yeah, Tony. I really, _really_ think that."

She was lying.

Ziva turned her eyes to the ceiling, grateful for a moment alone. The doctor had just left, and Abby still wasn't back. This was a moment to cherish, she decided, closing her eyes.

_I wonder what Tony's doing right now_…

The thought came out of nowhere, momentarily shaking Ziva until she remembered that Tony very well _could_ be doing something at that instant. He wasn't dead after all. He was alive. Tony was alive.

Ziva pressed her lips together as she pushed herself into more of a vertical position, crossing her arms tightly over her currently sensitive abdomen. Yeah _that_ was definitely going to start getting annoying. Well if anything, being stabbed was another thing Ziva could cross off of her "list of ways it might be okay to die." The already small list was just getting shorter every day.

Part of her knew — really knew — that it was irrational to stay angry at Tony. He hadn't…_really_ done anything wrong, after all. Technically. He'd been stupid to get himself shot, of course. But the whole plan for him to be dead…he hadn't thought of that. He had only done his job by agreeing. Any one of them would have done the same. Hell Ziva would have gone along with it in a heartbeat. It was her duty, after all. Just like it had been Tony's duty.

But the last month and half — every stupid, irrational action she'd taken — was still very present in the back of her head. Taunting her. Reminding her of how damn far she had fallen. What she had become.

She could barely face Ducky and McGee when they came in to see her. Even if they hadn't seen things to the extent Gibbs had seen them, they still knew how weak she had been. Everybody knew.

And she would never be able to take any of it back.

* * *

_She made her way through rows and rows of headstones, though what she was looking for she wasn't exactly sure. Her eyes caught sight of a hole a few feet ahead of her, and she went to it quickly, knowing, without knowing how she knew, that this was what she was looking for._

_"Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?"_

_She flinched as the familiar words assaulted her ears, her head snapping around as she stopped, less than a foot from the hole, and looked around, her eyes darting left and right to find who had spoken. But she was alone. Giving up, she continued her approach to the hole, stopping at the edge and looking inside._

_"You can't get rid of me that easily anyways."_

_She hadn't known until she looked into the hole that she would find him there. But somehow it wasn't a shock to look down and see Tony laying in an open coffin, clearly dead, blood still staining his shirt from the bullet wound that had been meant for _her_._

_It wasn't shocking. But that didn't stop her from reeling back, choking on a scream as she stumbled to get away from the awful sight. As she turned to run though, the coffin appeared in front of her, Tony's dead body taunting her. She took a step back, raising her hands as if in defense, and found they were painted red, covered in blood. _His_ blood._

_"You can't get rid of me that easily."_

_"Shut up!" She screamed, trying to cover her ears, but the blood was slick, her hands slid away…_

_And suddenly he was standing right in front of her, eyes open and wide and void of life, the blood dark against his white shirt, a warning a signal._

_"You can't get rid of me."_

"No!"

Ziva's eyes flew open, her breathing escaping in harsh, ragged breaths, her heart flying in her chest, beating a violent tattoo against her ribs. She swallowed hard, trying to remember how to breathe and cringing when the healing wound on her stomach protested violently. She shuddered as she choked back another scream.

But then a pair of arms went around her, warm and comforting and familiar, and despite the fact that they were the arms of the absolute _last_ person Ziva wanted to see, she couldn't stop herself from relaxing into his grip, taking small comfort from his continuous whispers of, "Breathe, Ziva, just breathe, it's okay. It was only a nightmare, it's all over. Just breathe, it's all right. I'm here. Just breathe."

Ziva gave in completely, turning her head and burying her face in his chest, breathing in his scent, shivering as she remembered thinking she would never have this again. Remembered that she had very nearly lost this.

_He's not dead._

"Do not go," she ordered in a small whisper. A part of her mind cursed her for being so weak, for not telling him to let her go, for letting him think she needed this, needed _him_. She didn't care. She couldn't let him leave. Not now.

Tony just chuckled. It was a weak sound, but a chuckle none the less. "Ziva you're _here_. Where the hell else would I go?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I'm not generally a fan of my own work (as you've probably seen from my self-loathing Author's Notes) but I'm not gonna lie — I really, really, _really _love that last line. Hope you all do as well.

Also, I received an absolutely fabulous anonymous review for the last chapter that I absolutely have to reply to. I believe the name was Luna: I _love_ when people overanalyze stuff, and people taking the time to overanalyze the strange, sometimes unhinged musings of my mind makes me feel all tingly inside. So thank you _sooo_ much for the review, I loved it!

Not that I don't love all reviews. As you all know I was super nervous about posting this, so the positive feedback I've been getting has been amazing. So thank you to everyone =D Review please? — Sam


	11. Apology

_Am I on my own today, all alone with nothing left to say  
Can it all go back the way it used to be when you were here with me  
But if you ask me I will go, anything for you  
But if you ask me I will go, cause baby I need you_

* * *

_**Scene Eleven — Apology**_

Ducky and Gibbs were surprised, to say the least, when they walked into Ziva's room the next morning and found Tony crowded into the hospital bed with Ziva, his arms wound tightly around her slim form, her head on his shoulder. It didn't take much of a stretch of the imagination to guess that Tony had snuck back in last night when Ziva had fallen asleep. But exactly _how_ had he ended up in bed with her?

Tony jumped as Gibbs slapped him upside the head; the sudden movement had Ziva jumping as well, instinctively reaching for a gun that wasn't there. "Aw jeez," Tony mumbled as he stumbled awkwardly out of the bed, rubbing the back of his head and stretching his arms. Ziva blinked a couple of times, clearly confused.

"What…" Her eyes landed on Tony; the three men had just enough time to see an unreadable parade of emotions pass through her mahogany orbs before she ducked her head, blushing visibly.

"Morning Ducky," Tony said, a little too loudly. "Boss."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs greeted the man dryly. "Sleep well?"

"Ah, ya know…" Tony shrugged, chuckling nervously. "Spent a month sleeping in a crappy safe-house bed, anything has to be better than that, right?"

Ziva was still staring at the blanket, determined not to meet anyone's eyes. Tony didn't think he was wrong in assuming he had something to do with that. "I'll just uh…go," he mumbled lamely, starting to back out of the room.

"You don't have to go, we aren't staying long," Ducky assured Tony. "Just visiting for a few minutes."

Tony shifted his eyes to Ziva, who was still not looking at anyone. "I should go," he decided regretfully, and left before anyone could answer.

With Tony gone, Gibbs turned to look at Ziva, who raised her eyes to look at her boss. "How are you, Ziva?" It was Ducky who broke the silence, of course. It took more time than Ziva cared to admit to come up with an answer.

"I am…okay," she finally settled for saying. "The pain is not unmanageable, though I am sure the doctor is still going to want to keep me for an unreasonable amount of time…"

Gibbs and Ducky exchanged looks. She was doing it again.

They shouldn't have been surprised.

Tony punched the coffee machine button with a bit more force than what was strictly necessary. "It isn't the coffee machine's fault you know," a vaguely amused voice rebuked him. Tony jerked his head around to look at the woman standing in the waiting room entrance, smiling softly.

"Cassie."

Conrad's senior field agent made her way into the room. "Agent McGee told me you'd be here," she explained, answering Tony's unasked, but probably obvious question of how she had found him.

"What do you want?" Tony asked, a bit harshly. Cassie shrugged.

"Just to talk. Say hello."

"Yeah, well your boss kind of screwed me, so excuse me if I'm not overly friendly," Tony said as he grabbed his coffee and took a sip, making a disgusted face. Ugh. Hospital coffee.

Cassie sighed. "Look Tony, I'm not going to lie, we all knew David was falling apart, thinking you were dead."

"Oh good to know."

Cassie pointedly ignored Tony's angry growl. "If we had told you though, what would you have done?"

"I would have gone home!"

"Exactly. Your team was under surveillance for weeks after everything went down. If you had gone back, it would have screwed us, especially Alex. We couldn't risk it."

"So instead you just ruin Ziva?" Tony demanded angrily.

"It was for the greater good."

"_Fuck_ the greater good," Tony snapped, throwing his still full coffee away. "Nothing is worth the pain you people put her through."

He walked past Cassie without another word, nearly running into Gibbs and Ducky as he stormed out of the waiting room. He barely noticed.

Ziva automatically looked away as Tony re-entered the room. "You're still mad at me," he guessed, his anger draining all at once, replaced with defeat.

"I am not mad, Tony." Her voice tired, a reflection of the defeat Tony was feeling. He rocked back on his heels before moving forward slowly.

"I never meant for this to happen," he said after a moment. He felt as if he was pleading with her.

"Tony—"

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," he hurried on before she could stop him. "That was the whole point, of everything. You were supposed to be okay. It wasn't supposed to go like this, I swear—"

"Tony!" Ziva's head snapped around to look at him, eyes flashing slightly. "Stop. I do not want to talk about this. Just _stop_."

Tony stared at her for a moment, slightly dumbfounded. "I…Ziva—"

"Please." The single word was filled with overwhelming pain, sounded almost broken. For a moment Tony felt like he couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment. It was all he could think to say.

"Never apologize. It is a sign of weakness."

The well-worn words felt like a wall standing between the two of them. Ziva didn't want to hear apologies, though exactly what she _did_ want to hear, Tony didn't know. There was nothing he could say — nothing he _wanted_ to say — that wouldn't bring them right back to where he started.

And clearly she didn't want to hear it.

Ziva turned away from Tony's probing gaze, trying to ignore the feeling that she was being x-rayed, that he could see right through her, could guess what she was thinking. Not that Tony hadn't always had an uncanny ability to guess what was going on in her head…it was an annoying talent of his that she often resented.

"What can I say?" Tony finally asked, struggling not to let his voice shake. Because there had to be _something_ he could say that wouldn't make her angry, something that would begin to repair what had been destroyed between them.

"Nothing." Well that certainly hurt to hear. "I do not _want_ you to say anything, Tony. Just drop it."

A small, sad smile pulled at the corners of Tony's lips. "You got that one," he said with a slight chuckle. Ziva looked up at him wearily, as if unable to think of anything to say in response to that clearly out of place comment.

Abby came in about an hour after Ducky and Gibbs left, and ended up staying for most of the day. Ziva used this as an excuse to constantly exile Tony from the room, ordering him to get food, Caf-Pow, anything she could to get rid of him. Her weak attempts didn't fool anyone, of course; Tony did as he was told though, in an attempt to keep as much peace as possible.

"Have you guys talked?" Abby asked as Tony went on his fourth Caf-Pow trip of the day. Ziva shifted her eyes to the window, taking in the pink and orange glows cast by the setting sun.

"No," she admitted finally, unable to think of a way to get out of the question.

"Don't you think you should?"

Ziva sighed quietly. She wasn't going to be able to get out of having this conversation with Abby the way she had with Tony. Abby was stubborn, wasn't as afraid of hurting Ziva as Tony clearly was. "It is not something I want to talk about right now, Abby."

"There are a _lot_ of things you never seem to want to talk about," Abby informed Ziva matter-of-factly. "Your past, your family, Somalia…you bury everything. And we let you, which is definitely a mistake on our part, but you can't keep doing that, whether we let you or not. And this is _definitely_ something you can't walk away from, Ziva. Everything has changed now."

"Nothing changed," Ziva argued at once. "Yes, we thought it had, but in the end absolutely _nothing_ has changed. Tony is alive. As soon as I am out of the hospital, everything can go back to normal, and we will never have to speak of this again."

"That's exactly what _can't_ happen though!" Abby insisted. "Ziva you can't just turn your back on this — things happened. We thought Tony was dead for over a _month_, and you fell apart. You can't pretend that didn't happen."

"It does not matter."

Abby shook her head slowly, unable to think of any way to respond to this. She knew talking to Ziva was impossible when she set her mind on something. But Abby couldn't find it in herself to let go of the subject _quite_ yet.

"This a second chance, Ziva. You should take advantage of it."

"There is nothing to take advantage of, Abby."

And with that, Abby knew the conversation was over.

* * *

Tony sighed as he sat down, knowing he would eventually regret spending these nights in the hospital. He probably should have accepted Abby's offers for a ride home.

He wasn't quite ready to leave Ziva just yet, though.

The woman in question was asleep now, more peaceful than Tony had seen her all day. Tony took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

_I wish I knew what to say_, he found himself thinking. _I know you're angry, and I don't blame you. Thinking someone you care about is dead is bad enough. Finding out it was all a lie…yeah, I'd be pissed too. I don't know what to say to make it better, though. Not that I think there are any magic words that'll make the last month disappear, though that would be convenient, huh? But I can't do that. And you won't let me apologize. You barely let me be alone with you. You don't want explanations, you don't want apologies. So what can I say, Ziva? How can I help you?_

Tony rubbed his eyes with his free hand, breathing deeply. He had never believed that he would come back from this mission to find such a mess.

It wasn't fair.

Tony was still awake, still stewing over how upside down everything had become, when a low, pained whimper caught his attention. His head snapped up to look at Ziva, who was twisting in her sleep, her formerly peaceful expression now crumpled into a look of distress.

"Ziva…?"

He reached towards her, but she jerked away from his touch, a choked sound that wasn't quite a cough or quite a sob escaping from her lips. "_No_," she moaned suddenly, surprising Tony. "No, please no…Tony…"

"Ziva, wake up." Tony shook Ziva lightly, knowing that generally such an action would wake the light sleeper. The grips of her tortured unconsciousness were stronger than Tony, though.

"Tony…"

"Ziva!" Tony didn't mean for his voice to come out so long; it had its desired effect, though. Ziva's eyes snapped open, her breathing harsh and labored. Tony rested a hand on Ziva's cheek, feeling the dampness of the sweat lightly coating her skin and succeeding in drawing her attention to him. After a moment her mind caught up with reality, and she hurriedly shrunk away from Tony's touch. Tony pressed his lips together as he pulled his hand back, trying very hard not to be offended.

"It's okay," he said after a moment, mostly to fill the suddenly awkward silence. The look Ziva was giving him was one Tony would have expected to see more if he had suddenly decided to take a swing at her — confused, slightly scared, and clearly upset. He _hated_ that look. Hated how guilty it made him feel. "What…what were you dreaming about?"

_Wham_. Tony could almost _hear_ the walls slamming as Ziva shut down. "Nothing," she replied instantly, relaxing back against her pillow and closing her eyes. Tony probably shouldn't have been surprised that he had received that reaction. He _wasn't_ surprised.

That didn't make him any happier about the situation, though.

"If it was nothing then you wouldn't have been moaning and close to crying my name while you were asleep," he informed her harshly, and her eyes opened again, slowly this time, and the glare she gave him was deadly.

"It was _nothing_," she informed him harshly, her voice colder than Tony could ever remember hearing it — and that was saying something.

"Talking about it might help," she suggested weakly, knowing before the words had left his mouth that it wouldn't work.

"I do not see how," Ziva dismissed him instantly.

"You never know." Tony knew if he valued his life he would let this go, let Ziva go back to sleep. But he couldn't quite shake the image of her twisting in her sleep, clearly distressed. Almost broken.

"Come on Ziva."

The three simple words almost broke Ziva down. For a brief moment she was dragged through her memory, back to the warehouse where Tony had tried, after close to five months, to make her talk about Somalia.

But she had written him off then. And she could do it now.

"Tony do you really _not_have anywhere better to be than here?"

"Nope." Tony's lips popped on the _p_. Ziva huffed, clearly annoyed, and turned her head away from him, focusing on the dark sky on the other side of her hospital room window. As long as she didn't look at him, didn't focus on his presence in the room, she would be able to stay strong. She wouldn't break down and tell him everything that had happened in his absence. She wouldn't give him that ego boost.

It took her almost an hour to fall back to sleep. After a while Tony noticed that Ziva was still awake (though how he could tell when her eyes were closed, Ziva had no idea), and reached out, taking her hand and wrapping his fingers tightly around hers. For a moment she considered pulling away and kicking him out of the room. But Tony hardly ever did what she told him anyways. So she gave in, allowing his hand to anchor her back into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I know not much really happened in this chapter. We're kind of in the building up stage now, we're moving ourselves towards a nice, big, angsty explosion in chapter...fifteen, I believe. I'm excited. In the meantime, review please? Move us towards the explosion faster? - Sam


	12. What About Now?

_Shadows fill an empty heart  
__As love is fading,  
__From all the things that we are  
__But are not saying.  
__Can we see beyond the stars  
__And make it to the dawn?_

* * *

_**Scene Twelve — What About Now**_

"No."

"Ziva…"

"Absolutely not, Tony. No. I will not be ridiculed in such a way."

"Zi, it's not ridicule. It's hospital policy."

"The hell it is not ridicule. I am not sitting in that contraption and that is final."

Tony sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Come on Ziva, Gibbs is waiting downstairs and you know how impatient he is. If we don't hurry he'll probably leave without us. Just get in the wheelchair and let me push you the short, short distance from here to the elevator, and then the just as short distance to the hospital exit. Please?"

"No." Ziva's resolve was absolute. Tony shouldn't have been surprised. They had been arguing about this wheelchair thing for the last ten minutes. She was determined not to look weak. Tony was determined to get her to follow hospital policy (and if he was honest, to get her to let him take care of her, even just a little). "Besides, knowing you, you would just push me into a wall as a joke."

"Okay now _that_ is hurtful. Do you really think I would intentionally sabotage an injured woman?" Ziva raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying his innocent tone. Wow, she really didn't think much of him. "Ziva I _promise_ will not push you into a wall. I just want to get into the elevator, and downstairs into Gibbs' car. No jokes. No funny business of any kind. Just the two of us blowing this popsicle stand." Ziva's disbelieving look turned to one of confusion as Tony threw a new saying at her. "What, you've never heard that one before?" She shook her head. "Huh. Still got a lot to teach you, I suppose. Anyways, into the chair, Zee-_vah_. Lets' move."

Ziva huffed, glaring at the wheelchair as if it were threatening her life. "You understand that I _am _perfectly capable of moving on my own, right? And that this is a completely useless precaution."

"I understand. The nurse who brought the wheelchair in understands. Every patient on the floor who has heard this conversation understands. Now would you just sit in the chair and do what you're supposed to, for once?"

Another frustrated huff, and Ziva reluctantly slid off the bed, wincing as she took the first step. If Tony hadn't been so worried she'd snap and hit him, he may have argued for keeping the wheelchair beyond the four walls of the hospital.

Once Ziva was settled (with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her face twisted into a look of absolute frustration), they started down the hall, neither speaking. Tony was mulling over in his head what he was about to do.

It had been barely a week since Ziva had been hurt. She was discharging herself completely against the doctor's better judgment, because she was sick and tired of being cooped up in the hospital room. Not that the terms of her being discharged were without limits. She wasn't allowed to return to work until the doctor cleared her (and Gibbs had already promised to kick her ass to Israel and back if she even _thought_ about showing up at NCIS before she was medically cleared) and she had to find somebody to stay with before the doctor would allow her to leave. And while Gibbs had already solved that problem as well by saying Ziva could stay with him, Tony had a different idea in mind.

But first he had to get himself and her into a place where Ziva couldn't easily run away.

They bad barely gotten onto the elevator when Tony pushed the emergency button, and the metal box shuddered to a halt.

"Tony I think you are confused. We are not at NCIS."

"No, we're not," Tony agreed quietly. "But we need to talk and I can't have you trying to run. Besides," he added with a cock-eyed grin, "some of our best conversations have happened in elevators."

"Some of our worst too."

"Well yeah, but…lets ignore that." Ziva raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged.

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

Tony pulled in a deep breath, rocking back on his heels for a long moment before speaking. "I…I um…I-think-you-should-stay-with-me-instead."

The words came out in a rush. Tony was amazed Ziva was able to understand him. Then again, Ziva amazed Tony a lot. "Oh?" She questioned neutrally, pressing her lips together. "And _why_ should I do this? Gibbs is more than willing to let me stay with him—"

"Well yeah," Tony admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "But I mean, Gibbs probably won't be around too much, he's going to be at work obviously, the doctor said…ya know, you're not supposed to…to be alone—"

"I do not need someone to take care of me, Tony," Ziva interrupted harshly. "The arrangement with Gibbs will work out just fine. There is no need for concern."

Tony made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "Fine, Ziva, it will work out during the day. But pray-tell, what happens at night? I'm not exactly down with the idea of driving halfway across town because you can't sleep."

Ziva's face burned red as Tony finally gave words to what they had both been avoiding talking about for the last week; her seeming inability to fall asleep or stay asleep without Tony.

The beginning of the week had been…not better, exactly. Not easier. Tony couldn't think of how to describe it, exactly. For the first couple of nights Ziva would fall asleep, and Tony would sneak into her room and wait for the inevitable nightmares that would send Ziva screaming back into consciousness. On the fourth night, Ziva had laid awake until nearly three a.m., when Tony had finally lost his patience and slipped into Ziva's room, surprised when he received only the slightest of rebellious looks before Ziva turned away from him and closed her eyes. She'd been thrown cruelly back into consciousness barely two hours later by a nightmare that she refused to talk about, but it had left her shaken and nearly crying. After five minutes of trying to comfort her, Tony had decided the first solution was the best and, just as he had on the first night, crowded into the bed with her, holding her until she calmed down enough to fall back to sleep.

After that Tony hadn't even put up the pretense of staying out Ziva's room; when visiting hours officially ended and Ziva attempted to sleep, Tony slipped into her room to stay with her, ignoring whatever looks he got as he sat down. And every night, without fail, she was awoken by whatever images haunted her mind. She refused to talk every time, though she at least allowed whatever comforts Tony offered.

"It will not be necessary for you to drive across town, I will not need you to be there in order for me to fall asleep."

"Because you haven't needed me for the last four nights, right?" Tony demanded, earning himself an evil glare. "I'm not trying to be your enemy here, Ziva. Just come stay with me, all right? Let me take care of you. For once. Please."

Ziva's response was to pull out the emergency button; the elevator shuddered back to life, coming to a halt on the ground floor. Ziva stood up as the doors slid open, hesitating for a moment as she reacquainted herself with the action of standing before she left the elevator, and Tony, behind. Tony caught up to her quickly, grabbing her wrist to hold her back. He was a bit surprised she didn't punch him. Surprised, but relieved.

They stared at each other for a long time, Ziva's resolve slowly crumpling as she stared into Tony's bright green eyes. She didn't want to stay with him. She didn't even want to stay with Gibbs, if truth be told. She wanted to be allowed to go back to her own apartment, even if the place _was_ in shambles. She was tired of depending on other people. She wanted to go home.

The problem was, Tony _might_ have been right. She might not have been able to sleep without him.

"_Fine_," she gave in at last, tired of arguing. "I will…stay with you for a couple of days. _Only_ a couple of days though. Understood?"

"Fair enough," Tony said with a small smile. "Let's go."

Ziva followed Tony outside, where Gibbs was waiting, leaning against his car. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Ziva mobile.

"Aren't you supposed to be in a wheelchair?"

Ziva blinked as she realized for the first time that she had indeed left the wheelchair behind. She looked between Tony and Gibbs for a moment before shrugging, unable to think of anything to say in response. Gibbs returned the shrug before climbing into the car. Ziva climbed into the passenger's seat, leaving Tony to get in back.

As Gibbs started the car, Ziva spoke. "There has been a…change of plans, Gibbs." The older man made a face as he turned to look at the Israeli. "I have…been enough of the burden to you over the last couple of weeks, and Tony has offered to let me stay with…with him, instead."

"Oh?" Gibbs questioned, shooting a look at Tony in the rearview mirror. "You sure, Ziva? I don't mind letting you stay with me…"

Was she sure? Of course not. "I am sure." But it wasn't like she had much of a choice at this point.

The ride to Tony's was silent. Tony spent most of it wondering how he was going to convince Ziva to stay longer than a couple of days. Ziva spent most of it wondering how she was going to get out of Tony's apartment after only a couple of days. And Gibbs spent most of it wondering how Ziva was going to explain the fact that most of her belongings had found a home in Tony's apartment.

Unfortunately Ziva didn't find herself on Gibbs' wavelength until they had walked into Tony's apartment. She froze as they walked into the apartment, and the first thing she saw was her running shoes sitting near the couch.

_Oh no…_

Of course, Tony hadn't been home since he had returned; he had gone to NCIS first, then straight to the hospital. He hadn't seen his apartment, or Ziva's additions. And the only one who'd known Ziva was living at Tony's was Gibbs. And the last thing on his mind would have been getting Ziva's stuff out of Tony's apartment.

They stood in the door for a moment, Tony eyes sweeping over what he instantly recognized as Ziva's shoes, her favorite book, her jacket…Ziva determinedly looked away, trying to ignore the redness threatening to overtake her cheeks.

After a moment Tony, in a fit of determined normalcy, started further into the apartment, kicking his shoes off and throwing his jacket onto the couch as he walked.

"So, lunch?"

Ziva resisted the urge to turn and run out again, to call Gibbs and beg him to let her stay with him instead. "What did you…have in mind?" She asked as casually as she could manage. Tony grabbed a cup out of the cabinet, pouring himself a glass of water.

"Well, if you don't object to me taking a shower real quick, I was gonna clean up then maybe order a pizza?"

"Ah. Pizza sounds…good." Not that Ziva had an appetite anymore.

"Great!" Tony drained his drink and clapped his hands together, grinning as he headed towards his room. Ziva sighed as she collapsed onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

Tony's stomach pitched as he walked into his room, and the first thing he saw was a picture sitting on his night-side table; one Abby had taken of Tony and Ziva months earlier. One whose twin Tony had tucked away in his wallet.

He looked determinedly away from the picture, not wanting to imagine what it had been like for Ziva to stare at the photo thinking Tony was dead. His eyes instantly landed on a plastic pill bottle next to the picture.

_Oh no_…

"Hey."

Ziva opened her eyes to find Tony standing over her. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened to his shower, until she realized what he was holding in his hand.

"Yes?" She prompted hesitantly, realizing already where this line of questioning was going.

"You've been taking sleeping pills." It wasn't a question. Tony was surprised when Ziva started laughing. "What's so funny?"

"I have spent the last three and a half weeks living in the apartment of a man I believed to be dead, and you are worried about the fact that I have been taking sleeping pills?" Tony pressed his lips together. He didn't like the joke.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about. Why were you taking sleeping pills?"

"Well Tony, generally when one medicates in order to sleep, it is because there is something either external or internal that is preventing them from _falling_ asleep in the first place."

Sarcasm. Great, now she was getting defensive. Tony wasn't going to give in that easily though. "Was that really a good idea?"

Ziva huffed as she stood to face Tony. "I am not an idiot, I know how to handle taking sleeping pills, I have done it enough."

"Yeah, that's the part that worries me."

Ziva grabbed the bottle from his hands, resisting the urge to throw it as hard as she could at his head. "I thought you were going to take a shower?"

Conversation over. Tony started to turn away, but not before he grabbed the bottle back with a surprising amount of speed; or maybe Ziva was just slow because she was still injured. "Hey! What—"

Tony ignored her as he went back to his room and grabbed a change of clothes (ignoring how naturally her own clothes seemed to be mixed in with his own). He went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and locking it. He dropped his clothes on the counter and popped the pill bottle open, dumping the contents into the toilet and flushing it.

_"Have you ever tried to kill yourself?"_

_The question wasn't _completely_ out of left field — it had been a long day of dealing with the fact that a fellow NCIS agent had killed himself, and Tony was too tired to be subtle. Ziva blinked, clearly caught off guard by the blunt question. Though she couldn't have been _nearly_ as surprised as he was when he received an honest answer._

_"Yes."_

_Tony's mouth just about hit the floor. Not only had she been honest, she had replied in such a matter of fact way… "Really?"_

_"Why would I lie about something like that, Tony?" She sounded kind of annoyed now._

_"You wouldn't, I wasn't trying to imply that you were…I just…I mean…" Tony stuttered for a moment as he tried to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. "I didn't think you'd be honest," he finally admitted. Ziva shrugged, sipping her beer carefully._

_"It was a…not _long_ time ago, exactly. But long enough. And I am not ashamed of it."_

_Even after a year Tony couldn't get over how direct she was. It took him a moment to recover from this admission. "How long ago?" He finally asked, unsure completely if he wanted to know._

_"Almost a year." Well _that_ wasn't long at all. "About six months before I came to NCIS, actually." Her eyes were distant now as she stared past Tony, back into a darker time — a time that wasn't really that long ago, Tony realized with a jolt._

_"Why?" He asked after a moment, unable to think of anything else to say. He wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to hear her reasoning. But it seemed imperative to keep her talking. Not that he could figure out why._

_It took Ziva a moment to answer. "My mother…blamed me when my sister died. Said it should have been me instead. And I agreed. It took me a year to get to the point where I was willing to do something about it — the first month after Tali died was spent getting revenge in any possible way. Then my father sent me to Cairo. And the eight months after I returned were spent trying to live. I do not remember how many times I wished to die. How many times I hesitated for what _should_ have been long enough for someone to kill me, if one partner or another had not interfered. There is no I should have lived to the first anniversary of her death."_

_"But you did." Obviously._

_"Yes." Ziva laughed humorlessly. "It probably would have been more humane to let me die before that though. I do not remember _why_ I snapped, exactly. All I know is when I got home, it seemed like an overwhelmingly _good _idea to finish off my bottle of sleeping pills and wash them down with alcohol." Tony cringed noticeably. "You see the problem with that." Ziva shifted her eyes to the ceiling, thoughtful now. "I was able to pass it off as an accident, at least. My father accepted my story easily, he did not want hear that I might have been suicidal. When I told him it was an accident, he believed it."_

_Some father. "How…I mean, who found you?"_

_Ziva shifted her eyes to Tony, watching him carefully as she answered. "Ari."_

_Tony scowled, feeling the usual rush of anger that came with the mention of Kate's killer. "Well…one thing I can thank the bastard for, at least."_

_Ziva turned her head completely to look at Tony, giving him a strange look. But Tony just smiled crookedly and took a sip of his beer._

Tony sighed as he turned the water off, climbing out of the shower and wrapping himself in towel. Today wasn't the day to try and hash out any details.

"So, pizza?"

Mahogany eyes met green, and Tony hesitated for a moment, hating how lost she seemed to look. He was determined to make things has normal as possible.

At least for today.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Too tired to come with something snappy to say. Review please? - Sam


	13. Paradise

_Every time she closed her eyes  
__She saw what could have been  
__Well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds  
__When covers tucked in tight  
__Funny when the bottom drops  
__How she forgets to fight... to fight_

_And it's one more day in paradise  
__One more day in paradise_

* * *

_**Scene Thirteen — Paradise**_

"…I am afraid to ask why _you_ own a copy of _The Sound of Music_."

Tony chuckled as he took the DVD case from Ziva. "Nothing beats the classics, Ziva. Come on, let's put it in." Ziva's response was a skeptical stare. "Didn't you say it was your favorite? Go make popcorn, I'll get this in, we'll sit down and watch."

Ziva rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she headed back into the kitchen. Tony's face split into a wide grin as he opened the case and popped the DVD out. His quest to make the day as normal as humanly possible had been surprisingly successful. He'd managed to avoid asking why Ziva had thought it was a good idea to move into his apartment; he didn't say anything again about the sleeping pills; he didn't ask about anything that had transpired over the month that he had been gone. They had ordered pizza for lunch and Chinese for supper, filling the time that hadn't been spent eating with the movies on the list Tony had compiled over the years entitled "Movies I Must Make Ziva Watch Before I Die."

It had been a little awkward when Ziva had seen the written version of the list with that exact title scribbled across the top. Tony had been careful to keep the list in his pocket after that.

Now it was almost eight, and Tony could tell Ziva was getting bored with his movies. It had taken a bit of digging to find the copy of _The Sound of Music_ that he had bought years ago simply for the fact it was a classic, knowing Ziva would love to watch it.

The smell of popcorn wafted into the living room, and Tony's grin widened. He was standing in the middle of his living room. Getting ready to put in a movie. To watch with Ziva. Who was in his kitchen. Making popcorn.

If a casual observer were to look in on them, he or she would have thought they were a couple.

Tony almost wished a casual observer would come through.

They kept the popcorn bowl on the couch between them, Tony lounging on one side, Ziva curled up in the corner, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"I really used to hate this movie," she mumbled as the opening credits came on. Tony threw a surprised look in her direction.

"Really?" Ziva nodded slowly, her eyes distant.

"Tali, she was the one who loved it. Somebody gave it to her for her sixth birthday, she made Ari and me sit down and watch it with her _all day_ — she said it was her birthday, and we had to do whatever she wanted. And she wanted us to watch the movie with her. Over and over and over. I was twelve and Ari was fourteen, you can only imagine how painful it was for us. After Tali went to bed that night, we found the movie and threw it out the second floor window. When my mother found out, she made us by Tali another copy. _And _she made us sit down with her one Saturday and watch it. All day. Again."

Tony chuckled dryly. "Well if that didn't make you fall in love with it, I guess nothing would."

"Oh I still hated it. Every time Tali suggested watching it, I made a point to run in the other direction. I _always_ had an excuse not to watch it with her." A small, sad smile pulled at Ziva's lips as her memories took another direction. "She brought it to Tel Aviv one weekend and made me promise I would sit down and watch it with her before she left. I hid it while she was sleeping, and she ended up going home without it because I refused to tell her where it was. A month after that she died. I found the movie while I was cleaning one day…I do not know exactly _why_ I decided to watch it, I spent so much time when she was alive avoiding it at all costs, but I put it in, and I watched it…and I could not really remember why I hated it so much."

Tony pressed his lips together as he returned his attention to the movie. He didn't know what to say, or if Ziva had even expected a response to her impromptu story. She spoke very little about her sister, after all; maybe sometimes she just felt the need to say something, tell some story, make it known that Talia David had, at one time, existed.

Ziva fell asleep halfway through; Tony wasn't really surprised. He could only imagine how tired she was. Sleep was hard to get when you spent your unconscious hours plagued by nightmares. Tony didn't bother finishing the movie; he turned it off and stood up, stretching his arms over his head for a moment before carefully scooping Ziva into his arms. She stirred a bit, muttering something in Hebrew, but remained asleep, thankfully. Tony carried her into his room, setting her down on the bed and pulling the covers up over her thin body. After a moment of hesitation he pressed a light kiss to her forehead, unable to stop the small smile pulling at his lips.

"Sleep tight, Ziva."

He slipped out of the room again, heading back into the living room and turning the DVD player off, settling for watching whatever was on TV until he too fell asleep.

* * *

_"McGee, have you seen Tony?" Ziva asked as she walked into the bullpen, her eyes moving between her own desk and Tony's before settling on McGee. The man looked up from his computer, clearly bewildered by the question._

_"Who?"_

_"Tony." No comprehension dawned on McGee's face at the sound of the name. "Tony _DiNozzo_." Still nothing. "Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." And nothing. "The man who glues your fingers to your keyboard whenever he is in a bad mood, McGee, come on, do you know where he is or not?"_

_"I don't even know who you're talking about, Ziva." And with that McGee went back to his typing. Ziva's mouth just about hit the floor._

_"What?"_

_Gibbs walked into the bullpen then, and Ziva instantly turned to him. "Gibbs do you know where Tony is?" She asked, a bit of desperation slipping into her voice. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the woman, clearly confused by the question._

_"Tony who?"_

_Not exactly the answer Ziva had been hoping to hear. "_Tony_, Gibbs—" She cut herself off as she realized she really had no clue what to say now. It was one thing for McGee to pretend he didn't know who Tony was — but Gibbs?_

_"Ziva are you feeling okay?" McGee asked as Gibbs continued to give her a strange look. She looked between the two men before pushing past Gibbs, heading for the elevator._

_"Abby."_

_The woman in question looked up, her face splitting into a grin when she saw Ziva walk into the lab. "Hey Ziva! What's up?"_

_Ziva cut right to the chase. "Have you seen Tony anywhere?"_

_Like Gibbs and McGee, Abby's face morphed into a look of confusion. "Um…who?"_

_And with that, Ziva lost her patience. "This is really starting to be _not_ funny, Abby. McGee, Gibbs, now you? It is not a good joke, let it go."_

_"What joke?" Now Abby sounded bewildered. "Ziva are you all right?"_

_"I am fine," Ziva informed the Goth impatiently. "I will be even better if someone would just _tell me_ where Tony is!"_

_"Who's Tony?"_

_"He's…he's Tony! Tall, messy hair, green eyes, obnoxious, movie fanatic…" Ziva's voice drifted off as Abby's bewilderment turned to concern. "You…really do not know who I am talking about?"_

_Abby shook her head slowly. Ziva felt as if her heart had stopped. How could they _not_ remember Tony?_

_"Ziva…?"_

_Before Abby could question her friend any further, Ziva turned and ran out of the lab._

_Neither Ducky nor Palmer were in the lab when Ziva walked in, much to her disappointment. Not that it mattered. No doubt _they_ wouldn't remember Tony either. _What is _wrong_ with everyone?_ Ziva wondered as she collapsed onto a stool, her heart pounding against her ribs. _Have they really _all_ forgotten Tony? Why do I still remember? What is going on?

_"You can't get rid of me that easily…"_

_Her head snapped up as his voice echoed in through the room, and she jumped up, looking around quickly._

_"Tony?"_

_She turned in a slow circle, her eyes eventually landing on the metal units tucked away in the back of the lab. Ziva stared at them for a long time and, though she didn't know _why_ it seemed like a good idea, she walked over to them, her hand wrapping itself around the handle of one of the bottom doors. And she yanked it open, pulling the metal table out and pulling back the blanket covering the body resting there._

_Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw Tony laying there._

_"Oh God…"_

_She reached a hand out, resting it against the metal door, but her hand slipped away, and she stumbled, looking quickly at her palm only to find it covered in blood. Her eyes flew to the metal, and her stomach turned at the sight of the blood smeared there. She looked quickly back at Tony, only to find him gone now._

_"Tony? Tony!"_

_Her eyes went back to her palms, still painted red with blood, then back to where Tony had been. She turned quickly, her eyes dodging all around the morgue; the room looked like it was spinning now._

_"Who?"_

_"Tony who?"_

_"Who's Tony?"_

_"You can't get rid of me."_

_A pair of hands grabbed her from behind…_

"Ziva! _ZIVA!_"

Ziva's eyes flew open, a strangled scream dying in her throat. She felt of pair of hands gripping her arms tightly, and for a moment she panicked, her mind torn between the disturbing dream and reality.

"No!" She yanked away quickly, sitting up and pressing herself against the headboard, her entire body shaking. Tony pulled back, holding his hands in the air. A sign of surrender. Ziva stared at him, wide-eyed, as her mind reconnected with the fact she was awake. That Tony was sitting right in front of her, watching her with clear concern. He wasn't forgotten. He wasn't dead. He wasn't lying in the morgue.

He was alive.

Her breathing slowly returned to normal and she swallowed a couple of times, forcing her face to take on an apathetic expression. She was pretty sure she didn't succeed.

"Are you okay?" Tony finally asked when he'd given Ziva what he considered to be an adequate amount of time to recover. Ziva ran a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the messy curls.

"Yes. I am sorry I woke you up." Her voice was mechanical, void of any kind of feeling. It worried Tony more than a little.

"Don't be, it's fine. Are you sure you're—?"

"I am _fine, _Tony." Her tone closed the discussion. Tony sighed as he stood to go back to the couch, but slim fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist, tightening almost painfully, and Tony looked back at Ziva, who was staring determinedly at the floor. But Tony could see, in the dim moonlight that filled the room, the apprehension and — more importantly — fear that were ruling her features.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked after a moment, realizing she wasn't going to say the words herself. She nodded a bit, and Tony sat back down. Ziva scooted over to give him more room to lay down, and he crawled under the covers. They lay in silence for a moment before Tony reached his arms out, looping them around Ziva's waist, and he pulled her against his chest. She stiffened a bit, and Tony was sure she would pull away. But finally she relaxed, her hands coming to a rest against his.

Neither of them spoke again before falling back to sleep.

* * *

Abby came over the next day, just as they were finishing breakfast — "Your talent is _wasted_," Tony had lamented, as he always did when Ziva cooked for him — a large grin in place and a Tupperware case of cupcakes in hand. Her first order of business — after throwing the cupcakes at Tony — was to throw her arms around Ziva's neck, hugging the woman tightly. Tony saw the quick spasm of pain that flitted across Ziva's face, and was about to protest Abby's unintentionally rough treatment of the healing woman. But Ziva shook her head, and Tony closed his mouth, letting Abby do her thing.

"It's so good to see you out of the hospital," Abby sighed as she finally pulled away, her eyes slightly watery now. "How are you?"

"I am all right, Abby." She left it at that. She knew if she tried to lie any further, Abby would call her on it. As it was the Goth woman was unconvinced by the short answer; she threw a disbelieving glance in Tony's direction, then gave Ziva the same look.

Tony excused himself after only a few minutes, saying something about needing to do some shopping and grabbing his car keys, quickly exiting. The second he was gone, Ziva felt her heart jump, and she suddenly found herself unable to sit still. Abby followed her as she wandered around the apartment, making the bed, cleaning the dishes, picking up hers and Tony's jackets, which had been left on the armchair the night before, and hanging them in the closet. Abby was uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire process.

"You're not okay," she finally said, and Ziva turned to look at her, putting on a quick, tolerant smile.

"I do not know what you are talking Abby. I am—"

"Not okay," Abby instantly interrupted. "Come on Ziva, say it with me — you are _not_ okay. Tony's been gone for barely fifteen minutes and you haven't sat still for more than five seconds since he left. You're nervous about the fact that he's gone, aren't you? That you can't see him, that you don't know where he is or what he's doing—"

"You are making me sound like a stalker," Ziva informed the woman dryly.

"There's a difference between stalking and being concerned."

"I am _not_ concerned," Ziva said at once. "There is nothing to be concerned about, why would I possibly—?"

"Ziva why are you here?" Abby asked suddenly, cutting Ziva off mid-sentence.

"Because the doctor would not discharge me unless I found someone who would allow me to stay with them, remember?" Ziva reminded Abby patiently.

"And Gibbs was more than willing to let you stay with _him_, remember?" Ziva sighed. She'd been hoping Abby wouldn't bring that part up.

"Tony kept bothering me though, I agreed to stay with him for a couple of days to placate him. Trust me, I am getting out of here as soon as possible."

"Ziva you don't do things to _placate_ other people," Abby reminded her. "Least of all _Tony_. So would you like to try again?" Ziva rocked back on her heels, her hands clasped behind her back. She didn't answer. "Ziva…you can't avoid this forever. Sooner or later you're going to have to face what happened when Tony was…gone."

Ziva flinched at the reminder. "Not necessarily," she protested weakly. "It is still possible for things to…to go back to normal."

Abby's responding smile was small and sad. "No, Ziva. I don't think it is."

Ziva stared at Abby for a long moment before turning away, walking into the living room. She didn't sit though, choosing instead to walk around the edge of the room, her eyes lingering out the window. Abby followed the antsy woman silently. "I cannot let this change me," she muttered silently, surprising Abby. "It just…it can_not_."

"_Why_?" Abby demanded, bewildered. She didn't understand why Ziva was resisting this so much. What was wrong with finding out that she _did_ have feelings — that she _was_ human?

"I just cannot," Ziva repeated stubbornly. Abby was about to protest, but when Ziva turned back to look at the Goth, she saw that there were tears in the Israeli's eyes. Her heart broke just a little.

"Oh _Ziva_…"

She moved forward, wrapping her arms around Ziva with infinitely more care than she had used before. And though Ziva didn't exactly care for the show that proved what she was trying to fight — that she _was_, in fact, weak — she returned the hug, resting her head on Abby shoulder and closing her eyes.

"It's okay to be human, Ziva."

If only Abby understood that it really wasn't.

Tony hovered just outside of the door, leaving it open enough to watch Abby wrap Ziva in another hug. What were they talking about, Tony wondered as Abby mumbled something just outside of his range of hearing. Ziva didn't have a response to whatever Abby had said.

_I am going to _kill_ Vance and Conrad_, he decided vehemently when he saw the way Ziva was clinging to Abby — something Tony had never thought he would see even if he lived to be a hundred. No matter how much Tony's "death" had accomplished…

The consequences were not worth it.

* * *

Ziva sighed as she let the too-hot water wash over her tired body, wishing that it could somehow wash away everything she was feeling.

But that would have been too easy.

Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed when Ziva emerged from the bathroom, watching her with an uncharacteristically serious expression. She ignored it as she made her way across the room to get her brush. "So if you do not mind lending me a pillow and a blanket, I will take the couch—"

"Or we could just share the bed," Tony pointed out. "It's not like we haven't before, right?"

Ziva stopped with the brush halfway through her hair. "We…could," she admitted after a moment. The problem with that was that it was admitting in one more way that she was weak. Something she couldn't afford to do. "But I mean…I do not want to inconvenience you more than I already have—"

"That couch is awful Ziva, I wouldn't make my worst enemy sleep on it." Well at the moment Conrad and Vance were his worst enemies, so maybe he would… "We're just two friends sharing a bed. There's nothing wrong with that, right?"

_Maybe not to you_, Ziva grumbled silently as she turned to face Tony at last. He was standing now, his eyes still more serious than Ziva could ever remember seeing them. "Your couch cannot be as bad as some places I have slept. It will suffice."

"_Ziva_." Now Tony was starting to get aggravated. Ziva did the one thing that came naturally to both of them — she tried to make a joke.

"Are you _that_ desperate to share a bed with me, Tony?" She teased, smiling a bit. The smile dropped instantly when Tony didn't take the bait.

She was only doing this to placate him. That was what she told herself as she finally gave in, crawling under the covers with Tony and even allowing him to wrap an arm around her waist. Even when she woke up screaming at three in the morning, having yet again dreamt of Tony bleeding out under her hands, she wouldn't admit otherwise.

She wouldn't admit she was weak.

* * *

**Author's Note: **In-denial Ziva is kind of boring, I know…two more chapters to the major meltdown. Who's excited? Review please! I know the last few chapters have been mediocre at best but...please, please, _please_ review?— Sam


	14. Fallen

_Heaven bent to take my hand  
__And lead me through the fire  
__Be the long awaited answer  
__To a long and painful fight_

_Though I've tried, I've fallen...  
__I have sunk so low  
__I have messed up  
__Better I should know  
__So don't come round here  
__And tell me I told you so..._

* * *

_**Scene Fourteen — Fallen**_

Tony was surprised, _really_ surprised, that they actually managed to get through an entire week before Ziva started getting restless. He'd given her three days tops before she started demanding that she be allowed to return to work.

"It is not like desk work is overly taxing, if all I am doing is sitting at my desk signing papers, Gibbs cannot complain."

"No, but he_ can_ head-slap us into next year," Tony reminded Ziva patiently. "If he sees you at the office before the doctor clears you, I shudder to think what he'll do. It's better not to push it."

Ziva sighed, annoyed, as she grabbed her book off the coffee table and flipped it open to a random page to begin reading. Tony rolled his eyes as he returned his attention to the TV. He knew this argument was far from over, of course. She'd been at it all day, unable to stand being cooped up any longer. She'd argue for a while, find something to do to occupy her mind for a bit, then go back to arguing. She knew eventually Tony would give in, of course — he couldn't say no to her forever. No matter how hard he tried.

And lord knew he tried.

"Come on Tony, it is _just_ paperwork—"

"Come on Ziva, Gibbs will kill us _both_ if I drive you in and you know it."

"_Fine_," Ziva huffed, throwing her book onto the table and walking over to the door, slipping her shoes on and grabbing her jacket. "Do you really think I am not capable of hot-wiring a car?"

Tony groaned as he jumped up as well, running to the door and resting his hand against it, forcing it shut as Ziva tried to open it. "_Fine_," he finally gave in, knowing damn well that Gibbs was going to murder him. "I'll freaking drive you in. Happy?"

Ziva grinned. Tony sighed as he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his jacket and car keys. Well, he'd lived a good life. And there were certainly worse ways to go than death by head-slap, right?

They spent most of the ride in silence, Ziva staring out the window, Tony pretending to focus on the road, though in reality all he could really do was watch her out of the corner of his eye.

It had been four days. Four nights of Ziva waking up screaming from nightmares she refused to talk about. In the morning she would do everything she could to avoid speaking to or interacting with Tony in any way. Short of leaving the apartment, though, there wasn't much she _could_ do for that. And somehow the idea of leaving the apartment never seemed to occur to her.

Not that Tony was complaining. If she'd decided to leave, Tony knew there was nothing he could do to stop her.

* * *

"Wow…those two _really_ have a death wish, don't they?"

Gibbs looked up at the sound of McGee's slightly amused, slightly horrified mutter. The young man was staring at the elevator, his eyes wide. Gibbs knew even before he stood to look who had stepped out of the metal box.

"Medical leave, David," he growled as he walked to the bullpen entrance to meet the duo. "You know what that means, right? And _you_—" he turned his glare to Tony, instantly slapping him as hard as he could upside the head. "You ever heard of saying _no_, DiNozzo?"

"Well…I…she threatened to hotwire my car, boss—"

"And what, she _doesn't_ weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet? There was absolutely _no way_ you could have kept her from leaving your apartment?" Tony ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. "Don't move," Gibbs said firmly before turning his head back to Ziva. "You, with me."

And with that, he started towards the elevator. Ziva jogged to catch up with him, slipping into the elevator right as the doors slid shut. Gibbs flipped the emergency switch, and the elevator shuddered to a halt. The yelling Ziva had expected didn't come, surprisingly; silence echoed around them. It was almost disconcerting.

"You are not going to say anything?" Ziva finally asked, her eyes on the floor. Gibbs sighed; when he spoke, he didn't sound angry. He sounded tired.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say, Ziva."

Well that was certainly a first. Gibbs _always_ knew what to say. Ziva raised her eyes to look at Gibbs at last. "You could say you are not angry," she suggested weakly. Gibbs laughed hollowly.

"Oh I'm pissed, Ziva, not gonna lie about that." Ziva almost smiled. As always, Gibbs saw right through her. "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

"I…_have_…technically."

"Nightmares?" Gibbs guessed, and Ziva nodded slowly.

"I thought…I hoped…that maybe things would go back to normal…the nightmares would stop…once I was out of the hospital. I really hoped…I _need_ things to just…to be _normal_ again." Her voice shook a bit as she spoke; she struggled to keep herself under control.

"You _need_ to talk to someone," Gibbs corrected her gently. "Ziva do you remember what you said to me at my house, after I brought you home from the hospital when you overdosed on the pills?"

Ziva cringed at the reminder of that day. She'd said a _lot_ under the influence of his bourbon. "You regret the chances you didn't take," Gibbs reminded her when she didn't respond. "Don't keep living with regret, Ziva. You have a second chance. Use it."

Ziva didn't have an answer to that.

"What the hell?" Tony muttered as his computer once again rejected his password. "Damn it McGee, what'd you do to my computer while I was gone? My password isn't working." He turned to glare at McGee, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. "_What_?"

Before McGee could say anything, the elevator dinged, and Gibbs and Ziva stepped out, making their way towards the bullpen. Ziva stopped dead when she saw Tony sitting at his desk.

"You know what, it's no problem," McGee said a little louder than necessary, grabbing a flash drive out of his desk and jumping up, crossing quickly to Tony's desk. "Ziva what's your password, I can move all your files back to your computer in two minutes."

"June two-zero-zero-three," Ziva muttered, her eyes on the floor. McGee quickly typed the numbers in, and the desktop appeared on screen. He put the flash-drive in the tower and set to work finding all of Ziva's files. Tony just watched, his eyes flitting between the computer and Ziva, who was still staring determinedly at the floor. She'd moved into his apartment, she'd taken his desk…what else had she done in his absence?

"All right," McGee finally said, grabbing the flash-drive out of the tower and walking over to Ziva's desk. Ziva finally raised her eyes to look at Tony, who was regarding her with a serious expression.

"Okay, and…you're all set Ziva."

She barely acknowledged McGee, other than to go and sit at her own desk and begin typing. Tony reset his password before setting to work as well.

The silence that had fallen over the bullpen was stifling. It was quite a relief when Gibbs' phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs." He listened for a moment before saying, "All right, be right there," and hanging up. "DiNozzo, McGee, grab your gear."

He glared at Ziva, daring her to argue. She kept her mouth shut, her eyes on her computer screen. Tony and McGee grabbed their bags, each casting their female co-worker a look before heading for the elevator, Gibbs right behind them.

Tony waited until he and McGee were safe in the confides of the truck before speaking. "She moved to my desk?" He asked as he started the truck. McGee shrugged.

"There was a…problem with the agent Vance got to replace you," he said after a moment, feeling strangely as if he were betraying Ziva. But Timmons wasn't exactly a secret to anyone else, no reason why Tony shouldn't know, right?

"And by problem you mean…?"

"Well…he was an arrogant asshole. Ziva snapped and almost choked him to death in Observation." Tony flinched. "After that I guess she couldn't stand to see anyone else sitting at your desk, she came in the next morning and practically begged me to help her move her files to your computer."

Tony pressed his lips together as they pulled out of the garage, starting down the street. "Is that when she moved into my apartment too?" He saw, out of the corner of his eye, McGee's face take on a shocked look. _Shit_…

"She moved into your apartment?" McGee asked in disbelief.

"You didn't know?" McGee shook his head. "What about the others? Abby, Ducky, Gibbs, did any of _them_ know?"

"Abby didn't, I know she didn't, she said she was going to Ziva's apartment every other night to try and get her to talk, but Ziva never answered the door. Ducky…probably didn't, and I don't know if Gibbs knew or not. If he did he certainly didn't tell any of us."

Tony could tell McGee was still reeling from this new piece of information. He cursed silently. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

Abby was surprised, to say the least, when she turned away from her computer and saw Ziva standing in the door of the lab. "Ziva!" Her face split into a grin for a moment before she frowned. "Wait, I thought Gibbs was going to kill you if he caught you back here before your medical leave is over?"

"We compromised," Ziva assured the woman. "I promised I would stay at my desk and not even attempt to get anyone to let me onto the field, and he said he would not kick my butt if I kept my promise."

"Fair enough." Abby smiled, a bit sadly. "So how are you?"

How was she? From the moment Tony had left her sight to go to that crime-scene, she'd been unable to get the images of something terrible happening out of her head; the truck crashing, someone pulling a gun, a bomb at the scene…

"Well I am beginning to regret promising to stay at my desk, I am already going crazy, and the doctor said it will be at least two weeks before he clears me…but other than that, I am pretty okay." Abby laughed.

"So what can I do for you?" Ziva shrugged as she moved further into the lab. She hadn't been able to stand staying upstairs by herself, with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her mind, and paperwork doing nothing to distract her.

"Gibbs and McGee and Tony just left for a crime scene, it was…too quiet upstairs, so I decided to come down and see you." A new thought occurred to Abby, and she bit her lip for a moment before voicing what was on her mind.

"Tony knows you took over his desk?" Ziva nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. "Did he say anything?"

"No." Ziva sighed, running a hand through her hair. "This is…admittedly harder than I originally believed it would be."

"It's never easy when someone comes back from the dead." Ziva's head snapped around to look at Abby, who was regarding her with a sad expression. "We spent a month thinking _you_ were dead too, remember? Wasn't easy then, either." Ziva pressed her lips together for a moment, not sure how to reply to this. "But…you're not dead," Abby finally said, her voice cracking a bit. "And…and Tony's not dead. Nobody's dead. And yet no one seems able to take a hint and take the chance fate is giving them." Ziva knew a hint when she heard one. Luckily her many years of training hadn't completely abandoned her; she also knew how to _ignore _a hint when she heard one. "You're just going to ignore that, aren't you?" Ziva didn't answer. "Of course…" Abby sighed, shaking her head slowly. "You know at the rate you people are going you're all going to have me as grey as Gibbs."

The image these words provoked had Ziva laughing, just a little. After a moment Abby began giggling unwillingly, and before long they were both cracking up, and the feeling felt so utterly foreign to Ziva after the last month of darkness and depression.

And she loved it.

Ziva made it back upstairs right as the boys were coming back from the crime scene. Gibbs assigned her with the task of looking up the victim's background, and she didn't protest, too pleased to be involved with the investigation at all to think about protesting her orders.

Tony was glad that the rest of the day went off without a hitch. He teased McGee, overjoyed when Ziva reluctantly joined in, they ordered pizza while they worked, Gibbs head-slapped McGee and Tony ("Boss' pet," Tony grumbled at a grinning Ziva when she escaped having to suffer the same fate), they broke the case and declared it a suicide before seven-thirty. Everything was just…_normal_.

It was really a good day.

Ziva seemed especially pleased when Gibbs sent everyone home at around eight. Tony waited until they were in the car, pulling out of the parking garage, before he dared to ask, "What are _you_ so happy about?"

"I was right."

Tony cocked his head, confused. "Well Zee-_vah_, as much as I hate to admit, it's not exactly a _rare_ occurrence, you being right. So why exactly does you being right _this_ time make you so happy?"

Ziva was still smiling as she answered. "Everything just needed to go back to normal. You at your desk teasing McGee, Gibbs slapping everyone—"

"_Everyone_? I seem to recall you being spared."

She ignored his grumbling. "Everything is okay now. It is back to normal."

They pulled to a stop at a red light, and Tony took the opportunity to examine Ziva. Well she certainly _seemed_ happier than she had the last couple days. A bit of light had returned to her eyes, the haunted look was gone, and she was smiling more now than Tony had seen in the week and a half that had passed since his return. Yeah, she was definitely happier. And she wasn't just _acting_, either. Tony always knew when she was lying about how she really felt. No, she was genuinely happy.

"Everything is back to normal."

If she just ignored the fact that she hadn't been able to stand Tony being out of her sight. That would go away with time. Everything would be fine.

It was back to normal, after all.

* * *

_Red or green…red or green…the choice bounced around Ziva's head, taunting her. But why were these insignificant colors important?_

_She gasped, pain tearing through her chest, as realization barreled into her like an eighteen-wheeler. A bomb! She pulled herself up, ignoring the protest of obviously broken ribs, her eyes — aching from the heat of the explosion — scanning the area as dust settled over everything. She hadn't been alone when the bomb went off, she knew she hadn't been..._

_Finally her eyes landed on a heap of grey and red laying a few feet away from her. "Tony!" She choked out, pulling herself onto her knees and crawling slowly but surely to where her partner lay. When she saw the state he was in, she felt as if the ground had given out from beneath her._

_The left half of his face was burned, making it almost unrecognizable, his shirt burned off, his chest blown open. His eyes were wide and glassy. "Tony? Tony!" She yanked her jacket off, pressing it against the gaping hole in the man's chest. His mouth moved a bit, no sound escaping. "Damn it Tony, don't you dare die," she hissed, putting a bit more pressure on the wound. "Don't die, don't _die_…"_

_"Z…Zi…" Terrified brown eyes moved up to meet green, and she was surprised to find that Tony was smiling, just a little. "C'mon Zi, whadya think that's gonna do?"_

_"Just shut up and focus on not dying," she ordered him firmly, ignoring the tears burning her eyes. A large hand rested itself overs, weak, limp fingers wrapping themselves around her own._

_"S'okay, Ziva," he tried to assure, but she shook her head, refusing to accept it. "Really, it's all right…"_

_"I said _shut up_," Ziva repeated, the words tearing at her throat. "Someone has to be coming, just hold on…"_

_"I don't think that's gonna happen," Tony choked out, coughing; Ziva flinched at the sound. "Don't waste your energy Ziva, focus on yourself, you still have a chance…"_

_"You are _not_ going to die you idiot, you just are _not_," Ziva cut him off, unwilling to hear what he had to say. Tony just chuckled before coughing again._

_"Ziva, look at me." She refused, focusing her attention on his wounds. "_Ziva_." She shifted her eyes to him momentarily; his free hand caught her chin and held her gaze on him. "You know I love you, right?"_

_Her breath caught in her throat. "You…what?" She managed to say. But Tony's eyes slipped shut, his last breath leaving him, the ghost of his final smile still on his lips. "No, Tony! _Tony_!"_

_No response._

"_TONY!_"

Ziva's eyes flew open, her breath escaping her in short, ragged gasps. She was vaguely aware of someone laying in the bed next to her, saying her name, but the voice was lost in the din that filled her ears. She rolled onto her side and attempted to push herself up, not quite able to suppress the sob that built in her throat.

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around Ziva's shoulders, pulling her into more an upright position. Her back came to a rest against Tony's broad chest as she gave in to the sobs. "Sh, Ziva, sh…" He coaxed quietly, rocking her back and forth, his hand tangled in her messy curls. "Sh…"

Ziva coughed as she struggled to pull herself back under control, slightly horrified by this overwhelmingly emotional display.

Tony held Ziva tightly as she cried, not sure if she was completely okay with this situation and at this point not really caring. Even if she asked, he wouldn't have let her go.

"Are you okay?" He finally asked as she dragged herself back under some semblance of control. He wasn't surprised, or completely believing, when she nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head with a bit more urgency than when she had nodded. He pressed his lips lightly against the top of her head, sighing into her hair.

So much for everything being back to normal.

"Zi?"

Tear-filled eyes turned to look at Tony, who moved his free hand to rub the pad of his thumb along her cheek, wiping away the tears that had already fallen. "Sorry," she murmured after a moment, closing her eyes. Tony made a noise in the back of his throat as he tightened his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest.

"Don't apologize," he commanded her quietly, resting his cheek against her head. Ziva pulled in a deep, shuddering breath as she buried her face in his shirt. Tony knew now was not a good time to ask why she had been screaming his name in her sleep. Truthfully, it would probably _never_ be a good time.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" He pushed lightly.

"_Yes_, Tony." He was pleased to hear her voice, despite the fact that it was strained, and muffled by the fact that it was still buried in his shirt. And Tony knew that this was the end of the conversation.

At least for now.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
-SPOILER ALERT (DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LATEST EPI!)-  
**So first and foremost - AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! TONIGHT'S EPISODE WAS SO FLIPPING AWESOME! That hug! Did you see the hug? She initiated a freakin' hug! And the finale - OMG! THE FINALE! I'm soooooo looking forward to this!  
**-END SPOILER ALERT-**

*ahem* Sorry. I was super happy with that episode, as you can probably tell. Haha

Anyways here's the dealio — the lovely melt down everyone has been waiting for is next chapter, and I know that's what we all want, so Imma make you all a deal: I'm a review whore in every way, and if I can somehow get this story to 200 reviews by Thursday, I'll update Friday, which is a whole 4+ days earlier than I usually do. Like I said, I'm a review whore =P Plus you know, you really all wanna see Ziva have a breakdown. So review please! — Sam


	15. Beauty and the Tragedy

**Beginning Notes: **So uh...you guys blew my mind with the response I got from the last chapter. I felt the need to update earlier than I said I would just because I got such a great turn-out from the last one. So read on! Oh, warning - this is going to be ridiculously OOC, even in the context of this story. You've been warned

* * *

_For I am finding out that love will kill and save me  
__Taking the dreams that made me up  
__And tearing them away  
__But the same love will take this heart that's barely beating  
__And fill it with hope beyond the stars  
__Only love_

* * *

_**Scene Fifteen — Beauty and the Tragedy**_

"You don't mind if I sleep with my shirt off, right Zee-_vah_?" Tony asked teasingly as he walked out of the bathroom. "It won't get you all hot and bothered, will it?"

Ziva rolled her eyes, ignoring Tony's teasing. "Honestly Tony, I have seen you naked before, you are not all that impressive to look at."

She wasn't looking at him, but she could still imagine his puffed-out chest deflating visibly. It was unnaturally warm, considering it was still early April; if Ziva wasn't so intent on hiding the scars decorating her arms, she would have been wearing a tank-top. As it was she could tell she was going to end up kicking the covers off while she slept…

"C'mon Zi, look at this and tell me it's not the most amazing thing you've ever seen." Ziva shook her head, smiling as she turned to look at Tony. Sometimes he could be so…

All thoughts flew from her head as her eyes landed on the pinkish, circular scar right in the middle of his chest.

_She felt his weight as he threw himself at her, effectively knocking her to the ground…she straightened up to find him lying flat on the ground, blood blossoming on his jacket…_

_"Come on, don't gimme that look. You think this is going to kill me?…You can't get rid of me that easily anyways."_

Ziva's stomach turned; she was vaguely aware of the fact that she wasn't breathing, but couldn't bring herself to do anything about the fact. Tony watched, with some amount of fear, as the color drained from her face at an alarming rate, and she swayed unsteadily. It took Tony a moment to realize what had elicited such a reaction from her. He quickly grabbed a t-shirt from his drawer, throwing it on before crossing the room in two quick strides, resting his hands on Ziva' shoulders and feeling the slight tremors running through her otherwise still body.

"Ziva, hey. _Ziva_."

She snapped back suddenly, sucking in a deep breath and blinking rapidly as she raised her eyes to look at Tony. After a moment she looked down at his now covered chest. "What, did I make you feel bad about yourself?" She forced herself to tease him. Tony could hear the strain in her voice.

"Come on," he said with a sigh, realizing that, once again, she would not allow herself to talk about things that made her sound weak. "Let's get to bed."

He crawled under the covers, holding them up for Ziva to climb into bed as well. She hesitated before joining him, putting herself as close to the edge — as far from Tony — as possible. Tony watched her back with a bit of sadness before switching the light off, plunging them into darkness.

"G'night," he muttered, nestling against the pillows.

"Night," Ziva muttered back unwillingly. Tony watched her outline as her breathing slowly evened out, her body relaxing as sleep overtook her. When he was sure she was asleep, he reached a hand out across the space between them, finding her hand and carefully intertwining their fingers, squeezing her hand lightly. He closed his eyes, knowing it was only a matter of time before the nightmares she seemed unable to shake sent her screaming back into consciousness.

He wished it wasn't so easy to predict.

* * *

"Dead petty officer, grab your gear."

Ziva's heart clenched painfully, her head snapping up as Gibbs walked into the bullpen. Her lungs felt as if they had closed in on themselves, and for a terrifying moment, she actually couldn't breathe.

"Um…Gibbs?" She scrambled up quickly, running over to Gibbs' desk. "I know I still _technically_ have not been cleared for field duty—"

"No, Ziva." Exactly the answer she'd been expecting.

"But—"

"We had a deal, remember?" Gibbs reminded her quietly. "You sit here and do paperwork; I don't force you to go home. I'm not against throwing you out and telling security not to let you back in until you're medically cleared. Understood?"

Ziva felt her entire body sag as she realized she wasn't going to win this fight. "Understood," she murmured, her eyes falling to the ground. Gibbs grabbed his bag and walked past her, brushing a hand against hers. She turned to watch the men leave, her eyes lingering on Tony, who was watching her with some amount of concern.

"Waiting for an invitation, DiNozzo?" Gibbs called, breaking the moment. Tony jumped and, with a small nod in Ziva's direction, jogged after Gibbs and McGee, slipping into the elevator right as the door slid shut.

_"Dead petty officer, grab your gear._"

Ziva flinched as the words echoed in her ears, an exact copy of the dream that had haunted the previous night. It was all very routine; they had gone to a crime-scene, began their processing, and the next thing she knew, someone was pulling a gun and shouting, and then there was a gunshot, and Tony went down, a bullet hole carved out in his head.

It wasn't like it couldn't happen. People had gotten hurt at crime-scenes before. Injuries were possible.

Too possible.

"She's not getting better, is she?"

Tony shifted his eyes to McGee as they came to a stop at a red light. "Don't know what you're talking about, McGoo," he commented easily. He didn't want to talk about Ziva. And he certainly didn't want to talk about Ziva with McGee.

"I know you're not that stupid Tony. She looked like someone had pulled a gun on her when Gibbs told us to gear up. She couldn't stand the thought of you being out of her sight, could she?" Tony sighed, scrubbing his face with one hand and hitting the gas when the light turned green. "It was the same last week too, we went to check out that suicide, she couldn't say anything, but she really hated being left behind."

"She just hates being on desk duty McGee, you know her. She needs constant movement."

"She probably wouldn't object so much to the desk duty if you could stay behind with her." Tony didn't have an answer to that. "Just say it, Tony. We all know she isn't okay."

"Fine, no, she isn't okay," Tony finally snapped impatiently. "Happy?"

"No," McGee's voice fell flat. "You being back was supposed to make everything okay again. Somalia didn't even affect Ziva this badly, I hate seeing what it's doing to her."

"Well I'm sorry I can't make everything magically better," Tony scoffed sarcastically. "I'm workin' blind here McGee, other than her moving into my apartment and taking my desk and nearly killing my replacement, I have no idea what was going on the entire time I was gone, she won't freakin' _talk_ to me about it. She has nightmares every night that she refuses to say two words about, and when I try to get her to say something she closes up and the walls come slamming down and she won't talk to me for hours. And I just don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore."

"You've never known what you were doing," McGee pointed out, trying to elicit an annoyed response from his co-worker. He'd never seen Tony so serious before. It was a little off-putting. It was downright disturbing when Tony didn't throw any zingers back at McGee. "I wish I could help," he sighed finally. "I really do. I'm sure more happened behind the scenes than what I saw, and honestly, it doesn't feel right to tell you what I _did_ see. It's Ziva's story. She has to tell you herself."

"She doesn't _want_ to tell me McGee, or did you miss the part where I told you that?"

"She'll tell you when she's ready," McGee replied simply. Such simple, stupid advice. Tony hated it.

"And what the hell am I supposed to do until then? Twiddle my thumbs and watch her wake up screaming every night and know it's all my fault?"

"You don't even know what she's dreaming about. It could be anything; there are things in Ziva's past we don't know about." McGee paused for a moment, knowing now that he was treading into a very taboo territory. "Maybe she still dreams about Somalia."

"I _know_ she still dreams about Somalia. But not every night. And she talks to me about those."

At this McGee raised an eyebrow at Tony, incredulity clear in his face. "Exactly how many times have you two shared a bed?" Tony flinched a bit.

"Well, you know…we'd have a movie night and we'd end up falling asleep on the couch and um….it just sort of happened, ya know?" McGee didn't look convinced. "Don't gimme that look McGutter, we never slept together."

McGee nodded slowly. "I'm sure I never would have heard the end of it if you had," he admitted after a moment. Tony almost smiled. The truth was that if he _had_, in some alternate universe, slept with Ziva, it wasn't something he would have bragged about around the office. And not only because of Ziva's strange ability to make him feel threatened with random office supplies. Ziva would be more than a one-night stand. She wasn't something to brag about.

She was too special.

Abby wasn't surprised when Ziva wandered into the lab. It had been the same the last couple of times she had been left alone in the bullpen — whether she couldn't handle being alone or she just couldn't handle Tony being out of her sight, she always found her way down to Abby's in search of a distraction.

"Hey Ziva." Abby put on a quick smile, not wanting the Israeli to think there was anything amiss. "What's what?"

"What?" Ziva sounded bewildered. Abby laughed.

"What's going on?"

"Oh." Ziva still looked slightly confused. "The uh…the others left for a crime scene, I was bored upstairs, I really wish the doctor would just _clear me_ already so I can get back on the field…"

"I'm sorry," Abby replied sympathetically. "Look at this way though, if you were going out on the field you wouldn't be coming down here and spending so much quality time with me. Every cloud has a silver lining, right?"

Ziva smiled softly. "Right." She cast her eyes nervously around the lab, shifting from foot to foot. Such a strange sight for such a composed woman. Abby watched her for a moment before moving on to a more serious line of questioning.

"How are you doing?"

Ziva moved her eyes to Abby, quickly attempting to put on another smile. "I am fine, I honestly think I could return to field work _now_, but Gibbs refuses to let me without a doctor's note—"

"I didn't mean physically, Ziva."

The attempt at a smile fell from Ziva's face, leaving an unreadable look in its wake. "I…do not know what else you would be inquiring about," she finally said lamely. As if Abby was really that stupid.

"I'm talking about up _here_." Abby raised a hand, tapping her index finger against the side of Ziva's head. "I think there's a lot more to worry about than the fact that you were stabbed last week — not that I'm not concerned about _that_, too," she added hastily. "But you weren't okay for a long time before that, I think that's something that takes a little more precedence—"

Ziva couldn't find it in herself to cut off Abby's rant, though she in no way wanted to hear about how mentally unstable she'd been the last month and a half. "…and I can tell by the look in your eyes that I just lost you," Abby concluded with a tired sigh. "So I'm just going to ask again: how are you doing, Ziva?"

Silence fell between them; it was almost stifling. Ziva opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to respond. "I…do not know," she finally managed to say, earning herself a bewildered look.

"You…don't know how you're doing?"

Ziva could understand why that would be so confusing. "During the day I am…all right. I can pretend like everything is normal. I am…still living with Tony though, I _hate_ that I am still living with Tony, I want it to stop, but…" Now that she had started talking, she was finding it hard to stop. "But I still have nightmares, and when I wake up, even with him there, it takes me a moment to grasp reality, to remember that he is _not _dead. I do not know if I would be able to handle waking up without him there."

Abby listened, feeling varying degrees of heartbreak as Ziva spoke. She'd known the woman was still struggling to come to grips with the recent shifts in her reality. But hearing it in her own voice made the whole thing sound so surreal.

"Oh…_Ziva_…"

And with that, the Goth flew at her friend, wrapping her arms around Ziva's neck and hugging her as tightly as possible. "It'll be okay," she whispered into Ziva's shoulder. "It'll all be okay, you'll see."

If only Ziva wasn't beyond believing that _okay_ was a possibility in her life.

* * *

Tony rested his head against his fist, elbow on the desk, watching Ziva intently. The woman in question was typing away furiously at her computer, looking up their victim's financial records. Tony was supposed to be trying to contact next of kin, the victim's sister. But every phone call he'd made had led to voicemail, and Tony was out of options.

He was still going over everything he and McGee had talked about in the truck. It hadn't seemed like a lot at the time, but on top of what he had already pieced together about the month he was gone…

_I'm sorry_, he repeated in his head for the millionth time. Because Ziva didn't want to hear him say the words out-loud.

Gibbs suppressed a sigh as he walked out of MTAC, his eyes sweeping over the bullpen from above. His gaze lingered on Ziva, and an image of her face from earlier, horror-stricken at the thought of being left behind, flashed through his mind.

She could act like she was okay all she wanted. Gibbs was no fool, though.

"What've you got?" He asked as he walked into the bullpen. Tony snapped out of what looked like a trance, hastily answering.

"Still no luck getting ahold of next of kin."

"Nothing off in the victim's financial records."

"Finished going through his phone records, there were a number of calls to one particular number, I'm tracing it now."

Gibbs nodded as he walked to stand in front of Ziva's desk, resting his hands against the smooth surface and leaning down so he was eye-level with the woman.

"Hey."

Mahogany eyes swiveled to look at Gibbs. "Go home," he ordered softly. "And no arguing," he added when she opened her mouth to protest. "Considering _you're_ still on medical leave, I reserve the right to send you home whenever I damn well please."

Not that Ziva wasn't going to try and argue anyways. "I would not feel right leaving you short—"

"My problem, not yours. Go."

And with that he went to his desk. Ziva's eyes flew to Tony, who was still sitting at his own desk, wearing a look appropriate for a deer caught in headlights.

Tony wasn't going home. Just Ziva. Ziva was going home to sit in Tony's apartment.

Alone.

She gathered up her jacket slowly, pulling out her cell-phone as she walked to the elevator.

Because after all, Tony had driven in her in today.

It had been a split-second decision, giving the taxi driver her own address instead of Tony's. After all, who knew when Tony would get out of work? Ziva knew she wouldn't be able to stand sitting around his place, and her own apartment still needed to be cleaned up, it was a wreck…

_Or not_, she reflected numbly as she looked around her living room. The destruction she had caused prior to her departure weeks earlier had been cleaned up, her coffee table replaced with what Ziva quickly recognized as a beautifully hand-built table.

Gibbs.

Ziva walked into the kitchen to see that the mess _there_ had been cleaned up as well, the wine stain painted over. And she was struck by an uncharacteristically strong wave of emotion. When on earth had Gibbs found the time to do this?

Suddenly feeling light-headed, Ziva stumbled back into the living room, collapsing against onto the couch and curling up into a tight ball.

She really wondered sometimes what she had done to deserve the people she had in her life.

Her one distraction gone, Ziva settled for closing her eyes, resting her head against the arm of the couch. Just a few seconds wouldn't hurt…

_Ziva's eyes fluttered open. She was in Tony's apartment, Tony's bed._

_Alone._

_"Tony?" She called sleepily as she sat up. She was wearing his oversized NCIS t-shirt, her sleepwear of choice when Tony had been…away. But she couldn't remember so much as _looking_ at it since she'd returned._

_"Tony?" Ziva tried again when she received no answer. She climbed out of bed, shuffling slowly across the room, down the hall. A quick sweep of the apartment confirmed her suspicion that she was indeed alone. Tony was not in the apartment._

_So then where _was_ he?_

_Ziva's cell-phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, rang suddenly, and she jumped, hurrying to grab the phone and flip it open. "David," she answered, a bit breathlessly._

_"Hey Ziva!" She was relieved when Abby's cheery voice responded. "So listen, I know it's really last minute and I know you probably already have plans, but I was wondering if you wanted to maybe do something today. I mean, it's been awhile since we hung out outside of work, and days off are super hard to come by, especially now—"  
_

_"Abby!" Ziva cut the Goth off, realizing it was the only way she would get to speak. "Do you know where Tony is?"_

_Abby silenced herself abruptly. Dead air travelled down the line for about five seconds; when Abby spoke again, she sounded somber. "Tony's…dead, Ziva. Remember?"_

_Ziva felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. "Wha…What?" She managed to choke out after a moment. "What do you…mean?"_

_"He was shot. You were with him. Don't you remember?" But Ziva shook her head urgently, despite the fact that Abby couldn't see her._

_"No, he…I mean, he _was_ dead, but it was a lie, Vance and…and Agent Conrad, they…it was a lie, Abby." The last part came out as little more than a whimper._

_"Ziva are you okay?" Abby sounded concerned now. "Did you have a bad dream?"_

_A dream. The words sent Ziva rocking back on her heels, all but turning her into a statue. It had seemed too good to be true. Was it possible…?_

_"Ziva?" Abby's now panicked voice didn't manage to penetrate the haze filling Ziva's mind. "Ziva, are you still there? What's _wrong_—?"_

_The cell phone slipped through numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Abby's voice echoed in her head, joined by those of Gibbs, McGee, and Ducky, each expressing concern and offers of comfort._

_Then Tony's voice rang out, loud and clear above the din._

_"It was only a dream."_

Ziva's eyes flew open, her breath escaping in a loud, startled gasp. She waited, as was customary, for Tony's arms to come around her, whisper to her that he was there, that everything was okay…

It never came. Ziva looked around hurriedly, not even noticing that she was in her apartment. All she saw was that she was alone.

Tony wasn't there.

_No, no, no_…

Still half-trapped in the terrifying dream, a dream of a world where Tony _was_ dead, she stumbled up, barely breathing. Lack of attention and care had her tripping over the coffee table, crashing to the ground. She coughed as she straightened up, digging her hands into the carpet to support herself.

_Tony_. The name broke through the building panic. Barely. _Call Tony_.

But was Tony really alive?

_Just call him!_

Ziva managed to drag herself over to the wall, pressing her back against it and fumbling to get her cell-phone out of her pocket; her lungs felt like they were seizing up. She couldn't breathe.

She hit the well-worn speed dial, hurrying to put the phone to her ear.

It rang twice. "_DiNozzo_."

The sound of his voice didn't bring the relief it should have.

* * *

Gibbs didn't think much of it when Tony's phone rang. But when, upon answering, the man vaulted out of his seat, eyes wide, Gibbs knew there was a problem.

"Ziva? What's wrong?"

Realizing he had attracted the attention of his co-workers, Tony quickly shuffled out of the bullpen, walking towards the windows and talking in a low, fast voice. McGee looked over at Gibbs, who kept his eyes on his senior field agent's back, remembering all too well how it felt to get a surprise call from a clearly panicking Ziva.

Tony whirled around suddenly, barking across the space between them, "McGee! Trace Ziva's cell-phone, _now_!"

If McGee found the request baffling, he gave no indication of such, instead springing right to work. Tony returned to his hurried words as he waited.

"According to this she's at her apartment."

That was all Tony needed to hear. He tore off, bypassing the elevator in favor of shooting down the stairs. Gibbs and McGee stared after him, wondering what the hell had happened.

"C'mon Ziva, keep talking to me," Tony muttered as he took the stairs two at a time. A weak cough answered his words. "_Ziva_…"

"_I…I…_" She coughed again, sounding shaky. Tony tried to ignore the guilt pulling in his chest. If only it was possible to snap his fingers and magically _appear_ where she was…

"What happened?" He demanded as he hurried across the parking garage, nearly running past his car in his rush.

"_Nothing…nothing_." It was the most coherent thing she'd said the entire conversation.

"Nothing happened?" Tony asked as he wrenched the car door open, climbing in. He put his phone on speaker and threw it onto the passenger's seat. "Are you hurt?" He asked as he started the car, throwing it into reverse and backing out of the spot, peeling out of the garage.

"_No_…" The whimper was low and pained. Tony broke about fifteen traffic laws just leaving the Navy Yard.

"You're at your apartment?" He finally asked, realizing that trying to pump her for new information at the moment would be useless.

"_Y-Yes_."

He laid his foot down on the gas, not knowing if it was possible for him to go any faster, and also not caring. You went straight there from work?" No answer, other than a small, barely suppressed sob. "_Ziva_. Did you go straight to your apartment from work?"

"_I…yes_."

Well at least she was managing to answer. Tony had never really known how fast his car could go — until now. The ride to Ziva's should have taken twenty minutes. Tony made it in five. He paid no attention to where he had parked, instead flying out of the car and bolting into the building.

Tony's heart just about broke clean in two when he burst into Ziva's apartment. The woman was currently curled against the wall opposite the couch, knees drawn up to her chest, one arm wrapped around her legs, her other hand holding the phone to her ear, fingers wrapped tightly around the small device. Her eyes were closed, face paper white, her breathing labored and her entire body shaking visibly. She didn't seem to notice that Tony was there.

"Ziva?"

Nothing. Tony knelt down beside Ziva, resting a hand against her cheek. The tender action had its desired effect; Ziva's eyes snapped open, tear-filled, cloudy mahogany orbs meeting green.

They stared at each other for a long time. After a moment, Ziva lowered her arm, flipping the phone shut and letting it clatter to the floor beside her as her fingers moved to rest over Tony's hand, still against her cheek. Finally, to Tony's utter shock, Ziva threw herself at Tony, her hands curling around the fabric of Tony's jacket as she buried her face in his shoulder. Despite his shock, Tony wrapped his arms tightly around Ziva's small, shaking frame and held on tightly, unable and unwilling to let her go.

Ziva didn't say anything. Tony really wasn't sure what _could_ be said, in a situation like this. _He_ certainly wouldn't know where to begin. So he settled for rocking her gently as she struggled to breathe, her tremors shaking through his body. He ran a hand through her hair, pressing his lips to the top of her head; he'd give his life to be able to take all of this pain away from her.

But wasn't that exactly what had _started_ this whole thing?

"Ziva," he whispered after a moment, his grip tightening even more. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, holding her head against him. "Can ya stand?" The only answer he got was a shallow, shuddering breath. "Come on Zi…"

It took some maneuvering, but Tony finally managed to get them both off the floor. He found himself supporting a good deal of Ziva's weight as he led them both over to the couch, Ziva clinging to him the entire time. They sat down; Tony, in what was probably a lapse of judgment, pulled her into his lap, his arms still firm around her body.

"Zi?" He tried hesitantly after a moment. He wasn't surprised when he didn't receive answer. Now really wasn't the time to force her talk, at any rate.

Except…

Ziva's cell rang, and they both jumped. After a minute Tony gently disentangled himself from Ziva, standing and going to where the phone had been abandoned.

"Ziva David's phone."

"_How is she, DiNozzo?_" Gibbs didn't bother with niceties, of course. Tony sighed, biting down on the _fine_ that threatened to tumble off his lips.

"She's not okay. But you knew that already, didn't you, boss?"

Gibbs didn't answer for a long time. "_Get her talking_," he finally said before hanging up. Tony flipped the phone shut, turning to look at Ziva.

"Hey."

Her eyes jumped up to look at him, and for once she didn't launch into a bunch of denials about how _fine_ she was. Even _she_ couldn't deny, this time, that something was wrong.

She could, however, try to derail the conversation.

"Tony I do not want to talk—"

"Well Ziva, I really don't care what you want." The words, spoken low and in a surprisingly harsh tone, surprised Ziva enough to shut her up, at least for a moment. She stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving Tony's. "What happened tonight?"

"Nothing—" Ziva started to say. But Tony wasn't hearing it. He'd had enough.

"If it was _nothing_ then why did you call me sounding like you were in the middle of a panic attack? Why did I break _fifty_ traffic laws trying to get here and find you curled up in a ball on your living room floor? Why were you clinging to me like your life depended on it?"

"Stop—"

"_What happened tonight_, Ziva? What happens _every_ night? What do you dream about that has you waking up screaming every night, what is it that makes it so impossible for me to be more than three feet away from you at any given time? What happened while I was gone?"

"Just _stop_!" Ziva snapped suddenly, whirling away from Tony. He grabbed her shoulder before she could try to walk away, though he knew better than to force to turn and look at him again.

"No, Ziva, I won't stop. This isn't something you can just bury. It was one thing when you came back from Somalia and refused to talk about what happened there, you came back from that even without talking. You're not coming back from _this_, though. You're not getting better."

"And what, you think _talking_ will help?" He wasn't surprised when Ziva scoffed and tried to pull out of his grip. He refused to let her go.

"Gotta be better than _not_ talking, 'cause that's clearly not getting you anywhere."

"What do you know?" Ziva snapped, her voice surprisingly steady, despite the fact that Tony could feel her trembling under his touch.

"I know everything that's happened since I came back." Tony shot back. "What I _don't _know is everything that happened when I was _gone_. Who told you I was dead? Did they send an agent, did they make a doctor—"

"_Stop_, Tony." Ziva sounded almost tortured now. Tony wasn't backing off though.

"What happened with my replacement? McGee told me he was an ass, but what made you snap and try to kill him? What made you move to my desk, move into my apartment? At what point did you start _medicating _to _sleep_?"

"Shut up!"

But Tony wouldn't be stopped. "What happened when you went undercover? How did you get stabbed? What were you trying to do? I want to help you, Ziva, but you have to _let_ me. You have to talk, or I can't do a god damn thing."

Tony had half a second to feel the trembling under his hand still before Ziva suddenly wrenched her shoulder out of his grip, whirling around again and shouting, "I never asked for your help!" And Tony, unprepared for the yelling, was shocked into silence. "I never asked you to risk your life for me, I never asked you to go to Somalia, I never asked you to push me out of the way and take that bullet, and I never asked you to take care of me!"

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, no longer sure how to act. There was a fire blazing in Ziva's eyes, and suddenly he was flashing back to standing outside the Mossad building while she furiously accused him of murdering her boyfriend.

And she wasn't done yet.

"What would you have done, Tony?" The sudden change, the line of questioning, caught Tony off-guard. "What if you had not pushed me down, and I had taken that bullet? What if _I_ was the one whose death they faked? What would you have done?"

"I…I…"

Ziva barreled on, giving Tony no indication that she had heard him. "What would you have done if Gibbs had shown up at _your_ door at six in the morning to inform you that there were complications overnight, and I was dead?" Tony's stomach flipped at the thought. He still had nightmares about the _last_ time Gibbs told him Ziva was dead. He probably wouldn't have handled a second time so well. "Would Abby have slept on _your _couch that night after you left the hospital? Would Gibbs have made you move into his house after telling you because he did not want to leave you alone? Would McGee stutter and avoid saying my name, would Ducky try to be your _therapist_? Would you have stopped sleeping to try and avoid the nightmares — the damn nightmares of me bleeding out under your hands while you can only tell me to _hold on_?"

Tony rocked back on his heels, another image flashing through his mind: Ziva, leaning over him, hands pressed against his chest, eyes filled with tears as she angrily told him to shut up, conserve his strength, he would be fine.

"Okay…Ziva—"

But she wasn't done. Not even close. "And the funeral. What would _you_ have done at the damned funeral? Would you have broken down, sobbed uncontrollably in front of _everyone_? And when you returned to work a few days later, after spending the weekend avoiding everybody because you were ashamed of how you acted, and you found out I had been replaced, what would you have done? How would you have acted if my replacement had mocked you endlessly, called you degrading names, insulted your dead partner?"

"Zi…stop—"

"What would you have done after Gibbs sent you home because he didn't trust you stay at the office with the replacement? Would you have gone back to your apartment? Would you have cursed me, thrown a glass of wine at the wall because you were so _damn _angry? Would you have kicked your coffee table, because destruction was the only thing on your mind? Would you have been so desperate to break something that reminded you of me that you would have gone after the _one_ picture you own of the two of us just so you could hurl it at the wall and hear the sound of the glass breaking? And when you saw the picture, would you break down crying because it reminded you of everything you could never have?"

"Don't—" Tony started to protest weakly. He didn't want to hear any more. He was becoming sorrier and sorrier he had pushed.

And still Ziva went on. "Would you have left your apartment and broken into mine because you could not stand the sight of the destruction you had caused, because you could not stand to be surrounded by the reminder of what you had become? Would you have wrapped yourself in _my_ clothes, _my _blankets, slept on _my _pillow, breathed in _my _scent and continuously remind yourself that you had lost _everything_, and there was no one to blame but yourself? Would _you_ have nearly passed out at a crime scene because you were not sleeping, were not eating, because none of that interested you, because it was too much work to just keep _living_? Would you have fallen asleep in the truck on the way back from the crime scene and forced McGee to wake you up because you were screaming in your sleep? Would Gibbs have sent _you_ home and ordered you not to come back until you had gotten a good night's sleep? What would you have done then, because you could not sleep without dreaming about me bleeding out while you watched, helpless? Would have started taking sleeping pills just to be able to sleep without the dreams haunting you every step of the way?"

There were tears running down Ziva's cheeks now, clearly unnoticed. Tony started to reach a hand out, to wipe them away. She jerked away from him, eyes still ablaze.

"And what would you have done when the sleeping pills stopped working? Would you have just lain there, continuously taking them without thinking, until you realized you had taken far too many? Would you have called Gibbs for help? Would Gibbs have told _you_, later, when you woke up in the hospital, that the doctor wanted to put you in the psych ward, and he could not think of one good reason not to let him?"

Tony's eyes — which had begun to widen when Ziva had admitted she'd taken too many sleeping pills — were nearly popping out of his head now. He felt sick.

"_Stop_—"

"When Gibbs forced you to move back into his house because he did not trust leaving you alone, in a dead person's apartment, would you have gotten drunk in his basement and admitted to him that you made a mistake, wasted too many chances, waited too long? Would you have admitted to _Gibbs_, of all the damn people in the world, that you were in love with your _dead partner_? Would you have jumped on the first case that came across your desk, dead prostitutes popping up in alleys near the Navy Yard, and they suspected a marine was the killer? Would you have argued, _argued_ with Gibbs to let you go undercover so you could catch the man and more to the point so you could put yourself in danger and feel alive for the first time in _over a month_? Would you have promised Gibbs, promised Abby that everything would be okay, only because you knew you wouldn't technically break that promise because _your_ idea of okay was different from theirs? Would you have tried to apprehend the suspect on your own, without calling for Gibbs or McGee for back up, because you _wanted_ to die, because you were tired of being alive without the _one_ person that gave your life any meaning?"

Tony gave up trying to tell her to stop. There was no point — she wouldn't listen. And wasn't this what he _wanted_? Hadn't been trying to get her talk to him for _weeks_ now?

"And when you woke up in the hospital, because of course Gibbs would not let you just _die_, how would you have felt? Would you have been disappointed, _disappointed_ because you just wanted to die, and no one seems willing to give you that _one_ wish? And when you heard _my_ voice, the voice of dead person, how would you have felt? Would you have panicked, thought you had finally lost your mind? Would you have been _so sure_ that you were insane? And when Abby sat there and talked to you in a voice more appropriate for a _five year old_, explaining to you that everything had been a lie, a _lie_, how would you have felt _then_? And when you saw me, _clearly_ alive, and realized just how far out of control you had spiraled in the last month, what would you have done, how would _that_ have made you feel? What would you have said? How would it have felt to look at me, and know that the last month had all been for nothing? _Nothing_!"

Ziva faltered for the first time, her eyes shifting away from Tony for just a moment before they flew back to him, hardened and more determined than ever to get through this.

"And what would you have done if you continued to dream, every night, that I was dead, or gone? What would you have done if one night you dreamed that I was gone, and no one seemed to know I had ever existed, and the next night you dreamed that a bomb went off because _you_ failed to diffuse it, and I died while you watched helplessly? Or if you dreamt that I left the bullpen with McGee and Gibbs, and you got a call saying I was shot at the crime scene? And if all else failed and your mind could not come up with any _new_ ways to torture you, you were simply sent you back to that one moment in time where I was shot and you were led to believe I was dead? And when one night you dreamt that everything was really lie, and I was really dead, and you woke up and I was not there, would you have flown into a panic because you could no longer tell what was real and what was just a dream?"

And so they had come full circle. Tony watched Ziva carefully as she tried to recover herself enough to remember where she had been going with that line of hypothetical questioning.

"What would that be like for _you_, Tony? How would _you_ handle everything? Would you want to _talk_ about it, to be poked and prodded every single day while someone who has no _damn_ idea what they are talking about tries to force you to speak about things you want so desperately to _forget_? Would you want to talk about it, Tony? _Would you?_"

Tony hesitated for a moment before moving forward slowly, reaching a slow hand out. But Ziva wasn't having it; she grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm and shoving him away from her. "Did you even _think_?" She hissed, her eyes still glistening with tears. "Exactly _when_ did it become a good idea to _push_ someone out of the way of a _bullet_?"

The first question that actually required an answer. "I…I couldn't just let you get hurt," he managed to stutter in spite of his shock. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if…if it had been you that was shot—"

"So instead you make _me_ live with it?" Ziva snapped, cutting him off. "You take a bullet that was meant for me, and you think it will not hurt me somehow anyways? Did you just think I was so cold-hearted that I would not think, every day, that you were dead because of _me_?"

"I…I didn't know _what_ would happen—"

"Exactly, Tony! You did _not_ know, you had no idea what the consequences of your actions would be, you _never_ know, you just act, you never think about how what you do will affect others, you are thoughtless and stupid and careless and…and…_selfish_! You could not live with what reality _might_ have been, so instead you forced it off on _me_!"

Tony would admit he wasn't really surprised when Ziva suddenly closed the space between them, slamming a hard, but severely weakened fist into his chest. He let the blow come, not bothering to stop her even when it was followed by another, then another, sometimes punctuated by words.

"Stupid…selfish…"

Even as she continued beating him she began to shake, tears burning in her eyes once more. After only a few moments her fists came to a rest against his chest, her fingers curling into tight fists around the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as she had when he had first come in.

"I hate you," she whispered suddenly, her breathing labored, her chest heaving. "I hate you. I…_hate_ you…"

"I know," Tony whispered over and over. "I'm sorry. I know."

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest. "I hate you," she whispered again, her voice shaking so violently, Tony was amazed she could manage to speak. Her knees gave out as she gave in to the overwhelming, body-wracking sobs, and Tony looped his arms around her quickly, holding her upright and clutching her against him. He didn't speak as he held her, smoothing her hair back with his hand.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his own voice choked with the tears he didn't realize were running down his cheeks as well, falling into the tangles of her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Ziva. I'm sorry."

For a long time the only sound that filled the room were Ziva's uncontrolled sobs and Tony's broken, tear-filled apologies.

* * *

**Author's Note:**…_Phew_. Lemme tell you, this chapter was just in every way _exhausting_ to write. It's almost 17 pages in Microsoft Word and an absolute _monster_. But I love it. I love every second of it. And it's actually not the longest chapter of this story, if you can believe it. But yeah. Review please! — Sam


	16. Twilight

_Never cared never wanted  
Never sought to see what flaunted  
So on purpose so in my face  
Couldn't see beyond my own place  
And it was so easy not to behold what I could hold  
But you taught me I could change  
Whatever came within these shallow days_

_And I will never see the sky the same way and  
I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and  
I will never cease to fly if held down and  
I will always reach too high cause I've seen  
Cause I've seen twilight_

* * *

_**Scene Sixteen — Twilight**_

Ziva's eyes snapped open, a small, startled gasp escaping her lips. For a moment she was disoriented; why was she in her own apartment, her own room?

The feeling of Tony's arms wrapped tightly around her registered in her head, and the memories of last night flooded back to her. She groaned as she buried her face in Tony's shoulder, noting the irony of the action.

She'd known from the start, of course, that telling Tony everything that had happened would not exempt her from the nightmares that had plagued her night after night since Tony's supposed death. But at least _this_ dream — a montage of memories both real and fabricated of Tony in different kinds of danger — hadn't sent her screaming back into reality.

After a moment Ziva dared to raise her head again, noting that Tony was still asleep. She disentangled herself carefully from his arms, making a small noise of amusement when he grunted in his sleep and tightened his grip, refusing to let her go. After a few minutes she managed to free herself and shuffling slowly to the living room, memories forcing herself to the forefront of her mind as she walked.

After nearly an hour of crying the night before, Tony had taken Ziva into his arms, ignoring her weak, half-hearted protests as he cradled her against his chest, carrying her to her room and sitting down on the bed, holding her tightly as the sobs gently gave-way to choked gasps for breath and hiccoughs. Both physically and emotionally drained, sleep had eventually taken Ziva away, wrapping her in blissful unconsciousness for a couple of hours until the nightmares had come back to haunt her.

Now she stood in the middle of her living room, her eyes drifting around restlessly as she thought about the events that had taken place here last night. Her cheeks burned red.

_"Would you have admitted to_ Gibbs, _of all the damn people in the world, that you were in love with your_ dead partner_?"_

Oh god. What had she _done_?

"Hey."

She jumped and whirled around, her eyes widening as she took in Tony, standing behind her, watching her with a solemn expression. Ziva opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, attempting to find her voice. Tony pressed his lips together for a moment. "Listen," he finally started. "About…last night—"

"No."

Ziva's voice cracked as she spoke, the single word burning her dry throat. Tony stopped mid-sentence, blinking a couple of times. "I…do not want to talk about it. Not right now. Please."

She added the last word in a low, almost broken tone. It made Tony flinch. He couldn't let it go that easily though. "Then when?" He asked quietly. "When are we going to talk about it?"

Ziva cast her eyes around the living room, cringing as the memories hit her once more. "Tonight," she finally said. "After work. At your apartment."

Tony nodded slowly. He could live with that. "Tonight, then," he said quietly. He didn't like putting it off even that long, honestly. But she was agreeing to talk to him at a semi-later time. It was better than nothing.

"Tonight." And then, because she seemed to understand that he didn't _quite _believe her, "I promise."

They stopped at Tony's apartment to clean up and change, then went straight to NCIS. Ziva had to struggle to ignore the sideways glances she got from McGee; she had a sudden memory of being on the phone with Tony and hearing him snap at McGee to trace her cell. And she cringed again. Fabulous. So McGee knew something had happened last night.

Which meant, of course, that Gibbs knew as well. Ziva tried to ignore the way her cheeks burned at the thought. It was official; this situation could _not_ get any worse.

Ziva spent the morning occupying herself by going through the emails she'd spent the last almost two months ignoring. She was surprised to find one from her father, offering his condolences for "Agent DiNozzo's untimely demise." Ziva scoffed, mostly at the fact that her father apparently wasn't as all-knowing as he liked to think. Well, in Eli's defense, he _was_ half a world away; the fact that he knew at all that Tony had supposedly died was impressive in itself. Ziva wrote him back a short, clipped response, correcting his mistake but thanking him all the same for the thought before moving on to clean out the rest of the junk.

"What'd Daddy David have to say?" Tony asked teasingly as Ziva clicked into another email. She shot him a surprised look.

"How did you—?"

"You had your 'I'm writing an email to my father' look. Not one I see very often, but it pops up every now and then." Ziva rolled her eyes.

"I do _not_ have a look like that."

"Yeah, ya do actually. How else would I know you were just writing an email to him?"

"Well if you were McGee I would say you installed some sort of software that allowed you to spy on my screen…"

"But I'm _not_ McGee." Tony took a second to consider this before adding, "Thank god," earning himself quite the glare from McGee. "Anyways, I repeat: what'd Daddy David have to say?"

"Well if you _must_ know he offered his condolences for your so-called _death_." Tony's eyebrows shot way up.

"Really?" He asked, slightly intrigued.

"Yes. His exact words were 'I was quite surprised to hear about Agent DiNozzo's untimely demise. He was very stubborn and pig-headed, I did not believe he would ever die.'" Tony bristled at that.

"Yeah, that sounds like your father," he grumbled before returning to his work, muttering under his breath, "Self-righteous bastard."

Any other day Ziva would have at least smiled, mostly because she often thought the same thing about Eli David. But she wasn't in the mood to be amused today. Mostly she just wanted to go back to bed, curl up under the covers, and forget for a little while that she was supposed to exist.

Tony tapped at his keyboard, not really paying attention to what he was writing. He'd been hoping to distract Ziva by asking about what her father had sent to her. He hadn't been expecting that Eli David would have any idea, let alone reference, the fact that Tony had spent a month being dead. Usually the emails that came once or twice every few months consisted of "Nothing new" and "hope you are well." The normally clipped email didn't offer him any of the distraction he had been aiming for.

_"Would you have admitted to_ Gibbs, _of all the damn people in the world, that you were in love with your_ dead partner_?"_

The words were bouncing around in his head, refusing to let him go. _In love_. She'd told him that she was _in love_ with him. Not that Tony really thought she should read too much into it. She'd been emotional, after all. Angry. Saying things just to spite him.

Still…saying she was in love with him was a pretty heavy thing to say in an attempt to just be spiteful.

_In love_.

Tony resisted the urge to groan and drop his head onto his desk. He wasn't sure what worried him more. The fact that she had admitted she was in love with him…or the fact that it might shut her down completely.

As if what had happened last night wasn't bad enough.

Ziva jumped a bit as her cell rang, and she quickly snatched it up, flipping it open and putting it to her ear. "David." She listened for a moment before her eyes widened, and she cursed in Hebrew. "No, no, sorry…I will be there in ten minutes." She flipped her phone shut and jumped up, grabbing her jacket, looking faintly annoyed.

"Something happen?" Tony asked, tilting his head curiously. Ziva shot him a look out of the corner of her eye as she slipped her jacket on.

"I…may have forgotten that I have a doctor's appointment today," she muttered as she started towards the elevator. Tony looked over at McGee, giving him a stare that almost bordered on pleading.

"I'll cover for you with Gibbs," the younger man sighed, smiling faintly. Tony nodded gratefully before jumping up, grabbing his jacket and car keys and taking off after Ziva. He managed to slip into the elevator right as the doors closed. Ziva shot him an incredulous glance.

"What—"

"I'll drive you," he said simply, earning himself a slight glare. But Ziva seemed to know that arguing would do her no good; instead she leaned against the elevator wall, crossing her arms and watching the numbers over the doors count down to the ground floor.

On the one hand, it was a relief to get out of NCIS for a little while, away from the sideways glances McGee kept shooting Ziva when he thought she wasn't looking. On the other hand, Ziva had been counting on having the ride to the hospital to herself and her thoughts. Tony electing himself as her ride to the hospital hadn't factored into the hasty plans she'd made as she ran to the elevator.

And what was worse was that she was _glad_ Tony had decided to come with her.

The doctor was smiling as Ziva apologized profusely for being late; apparently she wasn't the first NCIS agent to flake out on an appointment, though she was by far the most apologetic.

"Well…" The doctor said slowly as she examine Ziva's surgical scar. Tony leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the doctor's actions carefully. "Everything seems to be in order. I'm going to recommend you stay off field duty for a while longer, but desk duty should be fine for the time being." Tony scoffed under his breath. The doctor didn't notice this as she picked up a manila folder and flipped it open. "Ah…I recommended you stay with someone while you were recovering. Have you actually been _following_ that order?"

Ziva nodded slowly. "I have been…staying with Agent DiNozzo for the past week."

"Good, good. Well, there's no reason why you need to continue that any longer. I think it will be fine for you to move back into your own place."

Ziva's shoulders stiffened a bit; Tony was sure the doctor didn't notice, though Tony certainly did. "My…own place?" She managed to say after a moment. The doctor nodded, clearly unaware of how this news was affecting her patient.

"Yup. I see no reason why not."

Tony pushed himself off the wall, walking slowly to stand next to Ziva, taking in the woman's panic-stricken look. She was making no attempts at trying to hide the fact that going back to her own apartment wasn't an idea she liked. Tony would admit, this almost pleased him. She was as aware as he was that these living arrangements were not about her physical wounds.

"Well, I…I mean, thank you very much, Doctor."

She didn't sound half as sincere as she probably should have.

The ride back to NCIS was eerily silent. Not that the ride to the hospital hadn't been quiet, but it had felt more comfortable, contemplative. Now Tony just felt as if he was getting the silent treatment. Ziva spent the ride staring out the window, her eyes dark and surprisingly unreadable.

She was silent as they got out of the car and headed towards the building, silent in the elevator, and silent as she handed Gibbs the note saying she was cleared for desk duty, but to give her another week or two before sending her out on the field. Tony was dying to know what was going on in her head.

_"What is it that makes it so impossible for me to be more than three feet away from you at any given time?"_

Ziva closed her eyes for a moment as she sat down, taking the time to compose herself a little before she turned her computer on. Right. There was that little problem that Tony had so kindly pointed out last night; she couldn't be away from him. She couldn't sleep without him. There was no way she was going to be able to go back to her own apartment. Not without him.

But wasn't last night the exactly why she _needed_ to go back to her apartment? Get out of Tony's place, away from the man, work back towards the independence she'd once prided herself on. She needed to stop being this pathetic, weak woman she didn't recognize.

She needed to get back to _normal_.

The day passed uneventfully, ending with the wrapping up of the case Ziva had honestly forgotten they'd been working. It would have been ideal if she could have just run out and gone straight home. But Tony had driven her in that morning, and she still needed to get her belongings from his apartment anyways.

Plus there was that whole talking thing she had agreed to do…

So she waited for Tony to finish writing his report and get his jacket on before heading for the elevator, keeping her eyes on the floor the entire time and pretending not to notice the concerned glances he kept shooting her. She knew her silence was unnerving, and that it was driving him crazy. But she had to give him credit; he was being good about not asking.

Eventually, though, they left. Ziva did her best to avoid Tony's eyes in the elevator, and on the way to the car. She kept her gaze focused out the window, her chin rested in her palm, her elbow against the door. She could feel Tony watching her out of the corner of his eye. And, irrationally, she began to hope they would never get to Tony's apartment.

But they did, of course.

"So?" Tony asked when they found themselves standing in the middle of his living room. Ziva turned to him, her eyes as unreadable as they had been since her doctor's appointment.

"What do you want to know?"

It was all she could think to ask. Tony sighed, trying to figure out the best way to answer that question. What did he want to know? God…what _didn't _he want to know was a better question. So much had been said last night…

Finally he just threw a word out.

"Love."

Ziva's body stiffened as much as it would have if Tony had taken a swing at her. She pressed her lips together, swallowing a couple of times. Of course. The one thing she'd hoped to avoid talking about.

"What about it?"

Her attempt to write it off, to warn Tony not to go there, went unnoticed. "You told Gibbs you love me." It wasn't a question.

"I was drunk. I said a lot of things I did not mean." Not necessarily true — or true at all. But Tony didn't need to know that…

"Ziva I've seen you drunk. You don't lie. You just talk a little more than you normally would."

Good god, couldn't he just _let this go_? Ziva was mortified enough by everything that had happened, it wasn't _really_ necessary for him to make the entire thing worse, was it? "Can we please just…drop this? _Please_?" She added the last part for emphasis. She couldn't do this, she realized now. She couldn't have this conversation.

"This is the only question I'm asking," Tony informed her quietly. "The least you could do is answer it. I deserve that much, don't you think?"

For some reason the quiet, matter-of-fact words pushed Ziva over the edge. And suddenly she was talking without really any idea at all what she was saying. "Yes, Tony, okay? Yes! I told Gibbs I was in love with you, I told Gibbs I regret all the chances I never took with you, I regret never asking what you meant when you said you could not live without me, I told him I regret the fact that I would never get the chance to make anything right! That is why I could not deal with you dying, that is why I spiraled so far out of control, because it took you _dying_ to realize that I am in love with you, and there was _nothing_ I could do to make anything right!"

Out of words now, Ziva felt her cheeks burning red at the outburst. She _really_ enjoyed hanging herself, apparently…

Tony, surprisingly, did not seem to have much to say. He regarded Ziva with a careful, solemn expression, watching her for a long time.

"Okay." The simple word broke the silence at last. Ziva blinked, a bit confused by it. "Your turn."

"I…_what_?" And just when she had thought things couldn't get any more confusing.

"You said you have questions, things you regret not asking. And I've asked you more than my fair share of questions. So…your turn. Ask whatever you want."

Well…Ziva certainly hadn't been expecting _this_. A million and one questions flew through her mind. But there was only one she really wanted an answer to.

"What did you mean?"

Tony didn't have to ask for clarification. He knew exactly what she was referring to. A small, sad smile pulled at his lips as he turned his eyes to the ground, running a hand through his hair. "It was bad enough when Gibbs left you in Israel. I'd walk into work every day and just _stare_ at your empty desk, hoping by some miracle you'd magically appear. And when you didn't, I'd pull out my cell-phone and stare at your name in my contact list, trying to work up the nerve to call you. I actually did once, I was so proud of myself, but it went straight to voicemail. I almost whipped my phone across the bullpen." He chuckled vaguely at the thought, raising his eyes for a moment to look at Ziva before dropping them back to the floor. "But as much as it _sucked_, knowing you were half a world away from me, at least I knew you were _alive_. Doing admittedly dangerous things for Mossad, probably. But you were alive. And maybe someday you'd…come to your senses. Want to come back to NCIS. Back to me.

"I kept an ear on everyone, trying to hear if you had contacted any of _them_. When your name didn't come up I flat out started asking. I knew even if you hated me, there was no way you'd continuously blow off Abby, or McGee, or Ducky. And when you kept not contacting anyone, we started investigated. We all knew it was wrong, and we were worried.

"Then Gibbs told us about the Damocles…"

Tony's eyes took on a very haunted look, and suddenly Ziva was reminded of looking at herself in the mirror, her eyes very much the same. It was unnerving. "Life really stopped mattering after that," Tony admitted after a moment, pressing his lips together. "I went to work every day, and when I got home I'd just drink until I passed out. Which was stupid, I know, but…I didn't care. It was one thing thinking you were alive and hating me somewhere in the world. But thinking you were dead…and that you _had_ been dead pretty much since you left us…I couldn't handle it." After a moment Tony raised his eyes again, this time meeting Ziva's gaze and holding it. "According to the official records I went to Somalia for reconnaissance. As far as Gibbs, Ducky, Abby, and McGee know, I went for revenge. But honestly…I just went because I was sick of living without you, and at least in Somalia they could say I died trying to _do_ something."

Ziva was too stunned to think of anything to say. After a moment she reminded herself to breathe, and pulled in a slightly shocked gasp of air. She'd never asked about what had happened while she'd been gone. She hadn't been sure she wanted to know.

"Tony…"

The man smiled weakly, a smile that didn't quite reach his still haunted eyes. "It's really not much fun, living in a world where you don't exist."

They stared at each other for a long time, Ziva unsure of what to say, unable to think of anything, and Tony just watching. Waiting.

"What now?" Ziva finally asked, her voice quiet and slightly regretful. And somehow, Tony understood what she was saying with those two words. No matter how they felt about each other, there were far too many factors (namely their job and a certain boss) that wouldn't allow them to be together. What had gone down in the last ten minutes shouldn't have happened. And now that it had…they had to deal with it. In a way that _wouldn't_ affect their jobs.

"Now…I guess we get your stuff packed up and get you back to your own apartment." He was tempted to add _where you belong_, but somehow couldn't bring himself to. Ziva nodded slowly, her eyes on the floor now.

"Okay."

Considering how long Ziva had been staying at Tony's apartment, it took a surprisingly little amount of time to gather all her belongings and pack them. Though if Tony happened to find one if her shirts hanging in his closet and "forgot" to tell her about it…well, that didn't really matter.

They were silent as they carried the bags down to Ziva's car, throwing them into the trunk. "Do you want me to drive you over?" Tony asked as they closed the trunk. "I can catch a taxi back…"

"No, Tony, it is fine." There was a certain finality to her tone that told Tony he shouldn't argue. So instead he did the next thing that was on his mind; he wound his arms around Ziva's slim frame, drawing her against his chest and holding her there with all his strength. If she was surprised by the action she certainly didn't act it; instead she snaked her own arms around Tony, linking her hands at his back and hugging him as tightly as she could.

They both knew this was the last moment they could have. As soon as Ziva climbed into her car and drove away, they would have to go back to being co-workers, antagonistic partners, maybe friends on their good days.

So they made the most of what they had right then, refusing to let go of each other for a long time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So uh...that finale...you know what, I'm not going to pretend I have something to say, I was more disappointed than words can even begin to describe -.- All though it did spawn an idea for a new story. Maybe once I finish this I'll start working on it. So review please? I know it looks like we just took two steps back in this story...unfortunately we'll be taking a few more before we can go forward again, lol. - Sam


	17. If You Only Knew

**Disclaimer: **So I know it's a little late for this, but just so we're clear, I don't own NCIS, or any of the songs featured in this story

* * *

_It's 4:03, and I can't sleep  
Without you next to me  
I toss and turn like the sea  
If I drown tonight bring me back to life  
Breathe your breath in me  
The only thing that I still believe in is you  
If you only knew_

* * *

_**Scene Seventeen — If You Only Knew**_

Tony growled under his breath as he flipped over, punching his pillow to take out some of his frustration. It didn't work.

_Damn it_. He looked at the clock. Almost three a.m. He had gone to bed five _freakin'_ hours ago. And yet he was _still_ lying here. Tossing and turning. Not able to sleep.

This was _ridiculous_.

He didn't want to admit that it was Ziva's absence from the other side of the bed that was keeping him from sleeping. No matter how true it was, that didn't make it any better. He knew there was no way he was convincing Ziva to come back.

No matter how nice it would have been if she did.

Giving up, Tony contented himself to rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling, counting sheep. What a stupid practice that was. He knew from experience counting sheep didn't work. He always lost count and spent fifteen minutes trying to figure out how many he had counted.

Tonight, though, it didn't matter. He clearly wasn't getting any sleep.

* * *

Ziva sighed as she finally gave up, shoving the blankets away and climbing out of bed. There was twenty-four hour convenience store down the street she could probably get sleeping pills at…

_No, no, no_. She shook her head quickly of the thought. She was sick of medicating to sleep.

Of course, _not sleeping_ wasn't exactly the better action. She collapsed onto her couch, trying to ignore the fact that she was sitting in the room where she had told Tony, in not so many words, that she loved him, and picked up her book off the coffee table, flipping it open and trying to concentrate on reading.

_I wonder what Tony's doing right now…_

The unwarranted thoughts surprised Ziva a bit, and she shifted her eyes to look at the clock hanging on the wall. It was a little after three-thirty, no doubt Tony was _sleeping_. She had to struggle to push back the images of a gas explosion at Tony's apartment, a break-in, someone falling asleep with a cigarette and setting the entire building on fire…it was bad enough she had to deal with those fabrications when she was _asleep_. She didn't need them in her head when she was awake as well.

Focusing on the book became harder as sleep made itself more and more necessary. She was going to be exhausted tomorrow…not that it mattered, she wasn't allowed on the field, so it wasn't like she would be going anywhere, but still. Gibbs probably wouldn't be happy if she fell asleep at her desk.

* * *

"…You two look like hell."

Two pairs of tired eyes raised themselves to look at Gibbs, and McGee was happy that their boss had finally given voice to his thoughts. Tony and Ziva were both clearly suffering from a night of no sleep; it was wearing a little more on the former than the latter, though they were both definitely feeling it. "Aw come on boss," Tony tried to joke. "You know as well as I do you've never seen anything prettier than our faces."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Tony, who just smiled as he returned to his work. After a moment Gibbs turned to look at Ziva, who simply shrugged before going back to her work as well. Gibbs was no idiot. _Clearly_ something had happened last night. Something that had caused both his agents a night of sleep.

Not that they would ever admit it.

The day passed pretty much uneventfully, much to the relief of two exhausted agents. Tony spent most of the day catching up the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated in his absence. Ziva finally managed to write up a report about what had happened when she went undercover, something she probably should have done over a week ago, but she hadn't really felt like re-visiting the details at the time. When that was done she found herself with surprisingly little to do. She was relieved, if not a little confused, when an email from Abby popped into her inbox, requesting her presence down in the lab.

Whatever. She'd learned long ago not to question Abby.

Abby was sitting in her office, typing furiously at the computer when Ziva walked into the lab. The Goth's eyes snapped up as Ziva slipped quietly into the office, and in the time it took to blink Abby jumped up, closing the space between them and throwing her arms around Ziva's neck, hugging her tightly. Ziva stumbled back, a bit surprised, but managed to return the hug nonetheless.

"Abby…?"

"Sorry," Abby said quickly as she pulled away. "It's kind of reflex now, I should probably work on it…"

"It is fine," Ziva assured her, though honestly she _did_ hope it was a habit Abby could break. She really didn't feel like being attacked every time she walked into the lab. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. One sec." Abby ran back to her computer, typing something quickly before straightening up to face Ziva. "I was IM'ing with McGee, he mentioned it looked like you and Tony hadn't slept last night—"

"You and McGee gossip like old women," Ziva chided her friend kiddingly. Abby didn't smile.

"It's not good when people don't sleep, Ziva. Did something happen?" Ziva felt her own smile slip away, and she sighed, closing her eyes and letting her shoulders drop.

"It is nothing, Abby, really." _We only admitted, in not so many words, that we are in love, but we cannot be together. Nothing monumental about that, right?_

"I don't believe you." No surprise. "Wait a minute…" Abby's eyes widened as a new thought occurred to her. "Oh my god, you had a doctor's appointment yesterday. Did something happen, is something wrong? Oh god, you're not dying are you, because I really don't think any of us could handle that—"

"Abby!" Ziva cut the now panicking woman off as gently as she could manage. "Calm down. I am _not_ dying, the doctor cleared me to work. There is nothing wrong."

"Oh. Okay. Good." Abby took a moment recover herself. "Good. So then how come you and Tony didn't sleep last night?" Before Ziva could answer, Abby's eyes widened yet again, a new idea coming to mind. "Oh. _Oh_. Did you guys—?"

"No!" It was Ziva's turn to sound slightly hysterical as she cut Abby off once more. "I moved back to my _own_ apartment last night, Abby, the doctor said it was no longer necessary for me to stay with anyone."

"Oh." Now Abby looked vaguely disappointed. "Well that's not nearly as much fun as some of the things I was thinking. So is that what the problem was? You got so used to having Tony in the same apartment as you that it felt weird he wasn't there?"

"I…something like that, yes," Ziva gave in, figuring it was better to let Abby think what she wanted than try to explain what was going on in her head.

Not that Ziva _could_ explain what was going on in her head. She barely understood it herself.

"Take a picture Probie, it'll last longer."

McGee jumped, turning his eyes quickly back to the computer. And here he thought he was being discreet…

"Something you wanna say?"

"Ah, no. Nothing. Nothing at all."

It was Tony's turn to stare, waiting for his gaze to break the little Probie down and force him to talk. "I was just…wondering…you know, if you're okay. You and Ziva both seem…kind of distracted today. Did something happen last night?"

Tony opened his mouth to say no, to tell McGee to stop being nosy. But…

"She dreams about me dying." McGee's mouth fell open, though whether it was out of shock from Tony's admission or the fact that Tony was actually _talking_ to him was unclear. "Every night since I've come back. She's been staying at my apartment, ya know, because the doctor said she needed to stay with someone, and she was just going to go over Gibbs, except…except I had to spend every night in her hospital because she couldn't sleep without me right there. So I got her to agree to stay at my apartment instead. And every night…every _single_ night…she'd wake up screaming, and she always, _always_ refused to tell me why. And it turns out she was dreaming about me _dying_."

McGee stared at Tony, wondering if the man even really realized that he was talking. "The other night, when Gibbs sent her home…she went to her apartment, she fell asleep…and she freakin' dreamed that everything that's happened these past couple of weeks was a lie, and that I really _was_ dead. And she freaked out. She called me panicking, she could barely breathe…I've never seen her like that before, McGee. I mean, she…she's _Ziva_. She doesn't get like that. She doesn't panic, she doesn't freak out. She's _Ziva_." McGee would admit, he was having a hard time imagining Ziva having a panic attack. The image didn't jive in his mind. "She went back to her own apartment last night, and I freakin' couldn't sleep, it was so weird not having her there with me, and all I could do was wonder if she was okay, if _she_ was getting any sleep, if she was having any nightmares…"

Tony's voice drifted off, his eyes taking on a distant look, and McGee frowned. "Tony?" The man grunted in acknowledgment of his name being spoken. "Have you and Ziva realized yet that you're in love with one another?"

McGee was surprised when the senior agent didn't instantly fly into denial, telling McGee to shut up, he didn't know what he was talking about. "Yeah, actually. We have." McGee's mouth hit the floor. "Which just makes all of this suck even more, quite honestly."

"I…you…"

Tony chuckled dryly at the shocked, bewildered look on the Probie's face. "A lot happened the other night, McGee. Too bad none of it can ever come to anything."

* * *

Gibbs couldn't exactly say he was surprised when the sound of light footsteps coming down his basement stairs reached his ears. He turned just in time to see his senior field agent descend into the basement. "DiNozzo," he greeted the man dryly.

"Boss," Tony replied with a nod. He walked slowly around Gibbs' half-finished boat, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Uh…nice boat."

"Small talk. Nice." Tony chuckled shortly. Not that his attempt at subtle had been anything but transparent. Of course Gibbs would call him on his bull. "So you gonna explain why you and David both look like you didn't get any sleep last night?"

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Apparently Ziva and I were a hot topic of conversation around the office today," he mumbled, half-kiddingly. Gibbs set down the sandpaper he'd been holding, watching his senior agent wander. It was an odd callback to watching Ziva as, just a couple of weeks earlier, she'd drunkenly done the exact same thing. "So…she told me everything," he finally said, his eyes on the ceiling as if he were talking to _it_ instead of Gibbs. "You know, about what happened while…while I was gone."

"Everything?" Gibbs repeated, faintly surprised. He hadn't expected Ziva to _ever_ come clean about everything that had happened.

"Well I assume it was everything, I mean…she may have left a few things out, but what she _did_ tell me was pretty big, so I can only assume what she told me was everything." Gibbs nodded slowly. Tony rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at the ceiling as he wandered. "She uh…she told me about um…about overdosing on the sleeping pills. And…everything that happened after."

"Ah." Gibbs nodded again. "Yeah, she told you everything then."

Tony nodded as well, sighing as he finally brought his eyes back down to face his boss. "Ziva moved back into her apartment last night."

"She hasn't been there in over a month."

Not counting the other night. But then, Tony supposed it was good that wasn't coming up. Less questions. "Well the doctor gave her the go ahead to stop living with somebody, so she moved back in to her own place."

"Ahuh." Gibbs turned to his work bench, picking up his bottle of bourbon and pouring a glass. "And lemme guess, you couldn't sleep last night because she wasn't in the bed with you."

How Gibbs had known he and Ziva were sharing a bed, Tony wasn't about to try and question. "Guess I'm just a sap, huh?"

Gibbs chuckled dryly, throwing back his bourbon in one sip. "Want me to tell you the same thing I told Ziva when she said she was being weak?"

"I dunno — is it something I want to hear?"

Gibbs responded by slapping Tony lightly in the back of the head. "You're not a sap, DiNozzo. You fell in love."

Tony made a noise in the back of his throat. He wasn't sure what was more surprising; that Gibbs had actually _said_ such a thing, or that Ziva hadn't freaked out.

"And that doesn't bother you, boss?"

It took Gibbs so long to answer that Tony was beginning to wonder if he actually would. "I've been watching the two of you for a very long time, DiNozzo," he finally said, surprising Tony a bit. "No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, you always manage to find your way back to one another. It amazes me, really." He shook his head, looking a bit amused, if Tony had to classify the face he was making. "Whatever happens is going to happen whether the rules allow it or not. Besides, you're not going to let a list of made-up rules dictate how you run the rest of your life, are you?"

Tony's mouth was almost on the floor. "But they're…I mean, you're…"

Gibbs smiled faintly at the look on Tony's face. "Rule fifty-one, DiNozzo." Tony blinked. There were fifty-_one_ rules now? "Sometimes you're wrong," Gibbs elaborated to the confused look on his agent's face. "If, god forbid, you were to die tomorrow, or hell, if Ziva were to die—" Tony cringed at the thought, "would you really want there to be anything left unsaid? Would you want her to die without knowing how you feel?"

Slowly, very slowly, Tony's lips unfurled into a grin. He was fairly certain he'd just gotten Gibbs' blessing. It was amazing.

"Thanks, boss."

With that he started back towards the stairs. "DiNozzo." He stopped with one foot on the bottommost step, and turned back to Gibbs, who was watching him with a very serious expression now. "Break her heart, and I break your neck. Do I make myself clear?"

Despite the fact that it was a very _real_ threat, Tony chuckled dryly. "Understood, boss."

Gibbs chuckled as he watched Tony's retreating back. He really hoped the man was going to Ziva's. Because if this went on for much longer, Gibbs was really going to have to take their heads and knock 'em together.

* * *

_Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock_…

Ziva sighed as the persistent knocking chased her out of bed. She grabbed her NCIS hoodie and threw it on over her bare arms, hiding the scars from view. Whoever her visitor was, they certainly didn't want to see _those_.

_Knock-Knock-Knock_…

"Patience is a virtue," she mumbled as she stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole. She was surprised to see Tony on the other side, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet as he knocked repeatedly. "Can I help you?" She asked as patiently as she could manage, considering the circumstances. She was tired, she really just wanted to try and _sleep_. What could Tony possibly want?

"I love you." No three words had ever floored Ziva more. Before she'd even fully registered what had been said, her mouth was dropping, her eyes widening in shock in disbelief.

Tony continued speaking when Ziva didn't respond. "I know what you're thinking right now, how much weight can those words carry, coming from me, I mean, you've been around for the last six years, you know me, you have absolutely no reason to believe anything I'm about to say except, well…I don't know. You really don't have a reason, I guess. But _god_ Ziva, I swear, everything I'm about to say is true. I love you. So, _so_ much. You are smart and strong and beautiful and amazing, and _everything_ I've ever wanted in a woman, and then some, and I…I can't live without you. I know words don't usually mean as much when they're repeated, but they've never stopped being true. If it had been you shot, if _you_ were the one Conrad and his team 'killed,' I wouldn't have been able to handle it. Not again. I probably wouldn't have made it through the month, quite honestly. Because you…you're it, for me. I don't ever want to have to live without you."

Ziva's head was spinning by the time Tony was done speaking. He was talking so fast, it was hard for her to process everything all at once. And now he was watching her, his eyes brimming with hope, anxiety, and sincerity, wide-open doors that were begging her to come in.

_Get out!_ A voice in the back of her head screamed suddenly, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin. It was the rational part of her mind, she realized after a moment of pondering. The rational part that had become smaller and smaller since she'd originally come to America. The part that had shut off completely in the last month.

It was back with a vengeance now.

"T-Tony," she finally managed to stutter out, shaking her head slowly. "We…we cannot do this, it is…it's…"

"It's what?" He demanded, though not unkindly. "It's against the rules? Gibbs doesn't care, Ziva, trust me, I was just over his house talking to him, I needed to straighten my head out, he…he made some really good points. Someday we're all going to die. And I don't know about you, but I don't want there to be any regrets about my life. And if I let Gibbs' rules dictate the rest of my life, it'll be the biggest regret I have."

Ziva didn't have an answer to that. All she could hear _now_ were Abby's and Gibbs' voices ringing in her head, yelling at her to take the second chance she'd been blessed with.

She forced herself to refocus on Tony, who was watching her with an attentive, expectant gaze.

Silence rang heavy between them. With every moment that passed, Tony's euphoria faded more and more. He wasn't sure what he had really been expecting when he had driven over to Ziva's, breaking almost as many traffic laws as he had when he had sped there three nights earlier. He hadn't exactly been expecting her to throw herself into his arms and declare her own love; that would have been way too cliché, and _not_ Ziva. But hell, a _response_ would have been nice…

"Tony…we cannot do this."

And with that, Tony's heart plummeted right to the floor. He certainly hadn't been expecting _that_. "What…but…come on Ziva, if you're worried about the…rules…Gibbs—"

"This is not about the rules, Tony," she cut him off gently. "Or Gibbs. It is about _us_. And the fact that we would not be standing here right now if it was not for the fact that you were shot. It is not love, it is the two of us running on leftover adrenaline from all the near-death experiences we have had."

"But you…you _told_ Gibbs—"

"I was drunk, Tony!" Ziva cut him off before he could go any further with that statement. "I say a lot of things when I am drunk."

"You don't lie," Tony replied quietly, his eyes catching Ziva's and holding her gaze.

"I did not think I was lying at the time. Like I said — adrenaline."

Tony sighed, dropping his head and staring at the floor. After a moment he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. "You're scared." Not something he ever thought he would accuse Ziva of. He was surprised when she laughed quietly, hollowly.

"Tony…go home. Get some sleep. In a couple of weeks, this will all…blow over. Everything will be back to normal. _We_ will be back to normal."

He hated to give up. But he could tell he wasn't going to get anywhere. Not tonight.

He had one more thing to say though. "How many times do you think you'll have to say 'it'll go back to normal' before you actually start to _believe_ it?"

She chose not to answer that. "Good night, Tony."

And with that she closed the door.

* * *

"Dead naval lieutenant, grab your gear."

Ziva's head snapped up, her tired eyes hopeful as Gibbs stopped in front of her desk to look down at her. Finally he sighed. "All right David, you too, go."

Ziva grinned, jumping up and grabbing her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. Gibbs shot Tony a look that clearly said, _stay close to her_.

Easier said than done.

Tony had been rejected before. Not often, granted, but every now and then a woman saw through his playboy persona and blew him off. Usually he just had a drink and moved on to the next beautiful woman that crossed his path.

It wasn't nearly that simple this time though. He hadn't just been rejected. He'd been rejected by _Ziva_. The one woman he wanted his life more than anything else.

The ride to the crime-scene was silent. Ziva sat wedged between the two men, smiling and trying to look like she was happy to be allowed back on the field. Which she was, of course.

But the memories from the night before were still very vivid in her head. Tony, standing on the other side of her door, knocking persistently, his eyes more alight than Ziva had seen them in a _long_ time, his voice fast and excited as he told Ziva he loved her, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he couldn't live without her…

_Stop!_ Ziva shook her head furiously. It didn't mean anything. It _couldn't_ mean anything.

It couldn't.

It was certainly nice, all three of them being back on the field, doing what they did best. After almost two months, the sense of normalcy was welcome and wonderful. Ziva took photos, Tony covered perimeter, McGee did interviews. They were all back where they belonged.

McGee could tell that things still weren't completely right though. Even as he conducted the interviews, he kept an eye on Ziva and Tony. There was none of the usual playful banter that went between them at crime scenes; they weren't making an attempt to _even_ talk. In fact, it seemed like they were avoiding each other. Never a good sign. McGee sighed. He was really beginning to wonder if anything would ever _really_ be normal again.

"What a wonderful sight," Ducky sighed contently as he approached Tony and Ziva, who each gave him an odd look.

"You enjoy the sight of dead bodies that much, Ducky?"

"Actually I was referring to seeing the two of you working together again," Ducky chuckled dryly as he knelt down beside the body. "Welcome back to the field, Ziva."

Ziva managed a small smile. "Thank you, Ducky. It is definitely good to be back."

"I can imagine, you've never done well trapped behind a desk…"

Ziva refocused her attention on the photos as Ducky began examining the body. Tony tried to focus on the perimeter, but mostly he was watching Ziva. He wasn't really _thinking_ anything, just watching, which was probably a little creepy, but hell, she didn't seem to notice, so did it really matter?

God, it would have been so much easier if Tony could have just believed things really _would_ go back to normal someday.

* * *

"Do you really think things can go back to normal?"

Ziva shifted her eyes to Tony, who was watching her with a serious expression. "Eyes on the road," she ordered him dully, returning her own attention to the windshield. Tony snorted under his breath.

"The queen of bad driving is telling _me_ to keep my eyes on the road. Give me a break." He rolled his eyes as he looked up at the traffic light, just in time to see it turn green. He pressed down on the gas, and they started forward again. "So you didn't answer my question."

"I do not know what you want me to say."

Honestly…Tony wasn't really sure what he wanted her to say either. They spent the rest of the car ride in silence.

_Yeah, great idea Gibbs, send the two agents who _obviously_ aren't getting along to check out the victim's house_…

Tony wondered vaguely if Gibbs had done this on purpose. Probably. It seemed like the kind of the thing the cunning silver fox would do.

They paused halfway up the walkway when they saw the door of the house was slightly ajar. Quick looks were exchanged, and guns were drawn as they finished their slow ascent to the house. Another pause right outside the door, then Tony nudged the door open with his foot and they made their way inside, guns in front of them as they walked.

Ziva saw the flash of movement out of the corner of her eye before she heard the gunshot. Instinct had her ducking even as she raised her gun, firing off a shot of her own as the suspect disappeared into the kitchen. "Hey, _stop_!" Tony shouted after him, taking off. Ziva ignored the flash of fear, the way her stomach dropped, as she ran as well.

The next few seconds were lost on Ziva. She saw the gunman, cornered in the kitchen, the barrel of his gun pointed at Tony…

A single gunshot echoed through the air.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So like I said, one step forward, ten steps back. We're getting there though. Three chapters left! Review please! — Sam


	18. This I Swear

_You're there by my side in every way  
__I know that you will not forsake me  
__I give you my life  
__I would not think twice  
__Your love is all I need believe me_

_So open up your heart and let me in  
__And I will love you till forever  
__Until death do us part we'll be together  
__So take my hand, and hold on tight  
__And we'll give in  
__And this I swear_

* * *

_**Scene Eighteen — This I Swear**_

The bullpen was eerily silent as Gibbs walked in. He looked between his agents — McGee, looking into the victim's background, trying to figure out of there was any connection between him and the burglar Ziva and Tony had accidentally walked in on. Tony, writing a report about what had happened at the house. Ziva, who was supposed to be doing the same thing as Tony, but could only manage to stare at her computer screen, her fingers motionless against her keyboard.

It was really kind of creepy.

"Hey."

Ziva looked away from her computer, distant, haunted eyes locking on to Gibbs'. Gibbs silently jerked his head, and Ziva took the hint; she stood up, a bit shakily, and followed Gibbs into the elevator.

"I probably did not have to kill him," she admitted as soon as Gibbs threw the elevator switch.

"You saw a gun pointed at your partner," Gibbs said simply. He wasn't about to condemn Ziva for the actions she had taken. "You reacted the best way you knew how. You probably saved DiNozzo's life."

"He probably would not have even shot Tony. He was a burglar, not a killer. Just because he shot at us did not mean anything."

"A cornered criminal is the most dangerous. You don't know what he would have done if he had panicked."

Ziva hesitated for a moment, rocking back on her heels, her hands clasped tightly behind his back. "I still probably did not have to kill him," she said finally. "I could have…shot him in the leg or…or the arm…he did not really have to die."

"You reacted," Gibbs repeated. "If it saved yours or DiNozzo's life, or both, I'm certainly not about to complain about it. If you want to spend the rest of this case behind your desk loathing yourself, I can't stop you. But I'm not going to hold this against you. You did what you had to, Ziva."

"Did I?" She sounded unsure.

"You're doubting yourself." It wasn't a question. Ziva ducked her head, staring intently at the floor. Gibbs had never wondered more what was going on in the woman's mind than he did at that moment. "Ziva…"

"I thought we had a case."

He probably shouldn't have been surprised that she was so blatantly avoiding having any kind of conversation. "I can worry about you and the case at the same time. Hey." He caught Ziva's chin in his fingers, gently forcing her to face him. "You are the _last_ person who can afford to doubt herself. If you had hesitated in that house, who knows what could have happened. You need to _trust_ your judgment, Ziva. It's what's saved your life — and all of ours — a thousand and one times."

Ziva's shoulders fell, her entire body deflating like a balloon that'd had a pin stuck in it. "My judgment may have cost me the man I love," she mumbled after a moment. Gibbs couldn't even _begin_ to guess what she meant by that.

Ziva stayed behind her desk for the rest of the day. Whether of her own volition or Gibbs' decision, Tony couldn't really tell; on the one hand, Gibbs didn't try to send her anywhere, didn't tell her to accompany Tony when he sent the senior agent to do something. But on the same note, Ziva didn't protest even once.

It was a relief for everyone when Gibbs sent them home around nine. So it was confusing, for Gibbs at least, when Tony didn't immediately jump up and follow his partners to the elevator. "Nowhere else to be, DiNozzo?" The older man asked as he leaned against his desk, watching his senior agent continue to work.

"Well I can go home and not sleep, or I can go home and wonder why Ziva hates me. Neither option is really appealing, so I might as well make use of otherwise wasted time, right?" If what he'd said hadn't been so utterly pathetic, Gibbs may have smiled. The problem was, Tony was completely serious.

"You really think she hates you?"

Tony pressed his lips together, thinking for a moment. "No," he admitted finally. "I just…wish I could figure out what's going on in her head. It'd be really convenient if I could know what she's been thinking all day."

Gibbs thought about the conversation he'd had with Ziva earlier. "I don't think she knows either, to be honest. There's a lot going on up there, she doesn't know what to make of any of it. She's just…scared."

Tony was fairly certain he would _never_ get used to hearing that word associated with Ziva. "You really been watching us for all this time, boss?" Gibbs nodded slowly. "Do _you_ think…you know…everything that's happened, with me, and her, and…us…is just adrenaline?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes a bit, sighing. Oh _Ziva_… "I think she said the first thing that came to mind because she couldn't handle what you were saying. We all know emotions aren't her thing. You probably threw a lot at her last night, she overloaded and shut down."

Well when Gibbs put it that way…Tony had to admit, he probably hadn't approached things completely right. Being impulsive really was a curse…

"Thanks, boss."

Gibbs smiled faintly as he watched Tony stand and grab his bag, heading towards the elevator. Even if it _was_ against the rules, he really did hope Tony and Ziva could work things out.

Because if anyone deserved happiness, it was definitely the two of them.

* * *

Ziva would admit, she wasn't really surprised when she looked through the peephole and saw Tony standing on the other side of the door. If she was honest with herself, she was more surprised it had taken this long for him to come. She opened the door slowly, barely able to raise her eyes to meet his. He stared back solemnly, a surprisingly un-tension filled silence settling between them.

"I killed someone today."

Not the most original thing to open with. But it had been on Ziva's mind since they'd left that house hours earlier. Tony didn't say anything, waiting for Ziva to continue. "I killed someone," she repeated after a moment, her voice distant. "Not because they were threatening _my_ life or for the greater good of some end. I killed someone because all I could think about was that if he shot you, and you died…I would not have been able to handle losing you again."

And still Tony didn't say anything. Ziva couldn't help but wonder at the silence, but after the tirade of words that had come from him the night before, she also couldn't help but be a little grateful. With everything that was going on in her head, she was fairly certain she wouldn't have been able to handle anything he had to say.

"I am…not so sure I like this person I have become."

Tony held his silence for only a couple more moments. "And what person is that?"

Ziva was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that they were standing in the hallway, and that her elderly neighbor was just coming out of her apartment. "Come in," she muttered, not wanting an audience for this discussion. She stepped aside to allow Tony access in and closed the door. Behind the confides of a closed door she turned away from him, her eyes drifting restlessly left and right. "Before…before I never would have allowed myself to be so effected by someone's death. It may have hurt, but I would have moved on. I would not have broken down crying at the funeral or…or acted as irrationally as I did. It would not have been allowed."

"Before," Tony repeated flatly. "You mean before, when you were in Mossad and feelings were taboo?" Ziva didn't have an answer to that. "Things change, Ziva."

"They were not supposed to." Suddenly Ziva laughed, a very empty and hollow laugh. It scared Tony a bit. "Do you know _why_ Jenny created the liaison position?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Um…something about encouraging relations between foreign agencies…" His voice trailed off when Ziva shook her head.

"She created it because the only alternative was that I run away from Israel completely. The night I…that Gibbs killed Ari, some things were said, things that I heard, and I did not know what to make of them. I told Jenny everything, just because I needed _someone_ to talk to. When I talked to her, she realized I was really going to take off, and she offered to try and get me a position at NCIS, so at least I could be somewhere safe. I had no idea what she planned on doing until my father announced that NCIS was looking for someone to act as a liaison officer between the two agencies. I volunteered for the position to get away. Coming here…it was not supposed to _change_ me. I was not supposed to find a…a home, people I care about…" She bit down on her last words: _a man I love_. But Tony, being Tony, seemed to guess anyways at what she wasn't saying.

"Things change. I think it's some natural progression…or something like that."

Finally Ziva turned to face Tony; there was a world of confusion and pain in her eyes as they locked on with Tony's. "I do not _trust_ the person I have become." Her voice sounded almost tortured. "The person who killed that man, who did not even deserve to die…I do not trust myself at all anymore. And what happened today is just proof that trust is not possible."

Gibbs was right, Tony reflected sadly. There was a _lot_ going on in Ziva's head. "So what, you're going to throw away every chance at happiness because you can't _trust_ yourself?" The words were a bit more scathing than Tony really meant for them to be. But Ziva didn't take offense, at least.

"Gibbs said today that I cannot afford to start doubting myself. And he was right. I cannot keep being this…this person. If I cannot trust myself, then I have no business being in the field watching other people's backs."

"So what do you want to do?" Tony asked, losing his patience just a little. "Do you want to go back to who you used to be? Do you want to be the cold-hearted assassin that Abby hated and everyone else was afraid of or just didn't trust? Would that make things _easier_ for you?"

"Perhaps."

The one, barely audible word just about sent Tony over the edge. If he hadn't been worried that she would punch him, he might have slapped her upside the head. "You don't mean that," he said instead, his voice barely controlled.

"So now you read minds?" Ziva demanded, her own patience waning a little. She was getting tired of this conversation. "You do not know what I mean."

"Fine, _I_ don't want you to go back to being that person then." It wasn't exactly a shocking revelation. But Ziva couldn't find the words to answer it before Tony barreled on. "You've come so god damn far from the first moment you walked into the bullpen and asked me if I was having _phone sex_, you've changed a _lot_, and it's all been for the better. So honestly, I don't see what the problem is. Is it the _feelings_ you're afraid of? Because I've got news for you, Ziva, everyone has to deal with those, and we all seem to do it without much of a problem. I know your entire world was turned upside down these past couple of months, and I know _I'm_ mostly to blame for that, and you really have no reason to listen to anything I say, except…come on, Ziva. Think for a second. After everything that's happened, do you really think it's going to be that easy, switching off who you've become and going back to who you were?"

Again, Ziva didn't appear to have an answer. Tony threw caution to the winds at last, raising his hands and grabbing her shoulders, stopping just short of shaking her. "Don't do this to yourself, Ziva. Don't throw everything away because you're afraid of who you've become." His fingers tightened a bit, digging into her shoulders, but she didn't wince. She shifted her eyes, unable to look at him, but Tony wasn't having it. "Hey." He moved one hand to grab her chin, coaxing her head back up so that their eyes met. "Be honest this time. Do you love me?" Ziva opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, words momentarily failing her.

"Yes," she finally managed to say, her voice weak, slightly choked. Hot tears stung Tony's eyes, but he managed to smile nonetheless.

"Then why would you want to change that?" Ziva closed her eyes, pulling in a deep breath. It scared Tony, how damn close she looked to breaking. If someone had told him, two months ago, that his rash decision to push Ziva out of the way of an oncoming bullet would lead to all of this…

Oh who he was kidding? He would have done the same thing a million times over if it meant saving her. Tony moved his arms, looping them around her and drawing her thin body against his chest, holding her there. After a moment the tension drained from her body all at once, and Tony found himself supporting a good deal of her weight as her own arms found their way around Tony, and she returned the hug with as much strength as she could muster — which wasn't much. The last few days — weeks, really, but days especially — had been emotionally draining, for both of them.

"You know," he said after a moment, his voice low. "I have a go bag in the car, if you want I could…stay here for the night."

He was surprised when she simply nodded, offering no pretense or excuse as to _why_ it would be a good idea to stay. Usually she made up a reason to avoid looking weak. But tonight she just nodded, as if even the idea of coming up with an excuse was to exhausting to fathom. And so Tony carefully disentangled himself from her with the promise that he would be back in a minute before he headed out the door and down the hall to the stairs. He set a record, running to his car and grabbing his go bag before running back upstairs. But somehow Ziva had still managed to change into her sleepwear in the short time he was gone. She was just crawling into bed when Tony walked into the room. He slipped into the bathroom to change into his NCIS t-shirt and sweatpants before going back into the bedroom.

He didn't hesitate before sliding into the bed next to Ziva, no more than _she_ hesitated to move closer to him the second he was lying down, making it easy for him to loop his arms around her waist, holding her tightly against him.

They were both asleep within moments.

* * *

Tony groaned as the annoying ring of a cell-phone jolted him back to reality. He grabbed the phone off the bed-side table, flipping it open and putting it to his ear. "DiNozzo," he mumbled, his voice thick with a sleep. There was a pause.

"_Tony_?"

"No, McGee, the _other_ DiNozzo whose number you have in your phone," Tony said sarcastically as he tried to sit up, only to find this action was impossible due to the fact that Ziva was still fast asleep, her leg tangled in both of his, her head against his chest. She looked more peaceful than he had seen her in weeks. "What do you want?"

"_Well…considering I called _Ziva_, I think I want to talk to _her_._" Tony practically _felt_ the color drain from his face as he yanked the phone away from his ear to stare at it. Damn office-issue phones, they all looked the same… "_As a matter of fact when I called _your_ phone, you didn't answer_," McGee was saying as Tony put the phone back to his ear. Oh. Right. _His_ phone was still in his jacket pocket. Which was currently in the living room. On Ziva's couch. Damn it.

_Note to self — have Gibbs slap me later_.

"_So…why are you answering Ziva's phone, exactly_?"

"I'm pretty sure that's none of your business," Tony said, mostly stalling for time. "Is there something _I_ can help you with, Probie?"

"_Just wondering where you guys are, it's after ten you know. Gibbs is on a warpath._" Tony's eyes flew to Ziva's alarm clock. Crap. It _was_ after ten. They'd overslept. A lot.

"Tell Gibbs we'll be there in half an hour."

"_Tony_?" The man paused in the process of hanging up. "_Is Ziva all right?_"

He looked down at the woman, still out cold. It was a testament of how tired she was, the fact that none of this had woken her up. "She will be," Tony said simply before flipping the phone shut and proceeding to do the impossible. "Hey…Ziva, wake up." She made a noise in the back of her throat before instinctually cuddling closer to the warm object she was pressed against — AKA, Tony. He grinned, a bit stupidly. He could definitely get used to this. "Ziva, come on, Gibbs is gonna kill us when we get in, wake up."

"Gibbs has no reason to kill us," Ziva mumbled, clearly still half asleep. "He does not care that we are breaking his rule, remember?"

"No, but I think he _does_ care that we're three hours late." With that, Ziva's eyes snapped open, flying instantly to the clock. She swore sharply in Hebrew as she sat up, disentangling herself from Tony. Before Tony could try to reassure her that it wasn't a big deal, she'd jumped out of and streaked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Tony chuckled under his breath as he climbed out of bed as well, grabbing his toothbrush from his bag. He waited until he'd heard the shower start and the rattle of rings against metal as the shower curtain was drawn to ease the door open and walk in.

"By the way," he called over the hiss of water as he tried to find her toothpaste, "when we get in McGee _might_ say something about me answering your phone."

There was a screech of metal on metal as Ziva yanked the curtain back and stuck her head out to stare at him. "_Why_ did you answer my phone, exactly?"

"Well…I was half asleep, I thought it was mine…"

"And what did you tell McGee?" Tony finally found the toothpaste and unscrewed the top, squeezing a bit of the paste onto his toothbrush.

"He didn't actually _ask_ for an explanation…"

Ziva groaned as Tony stuck his toothbrush in his mouth. "You know he is going to tell Abby, and once Abby is informed the entire Navy Yard will know by the end of the day."

"Aw, fwat dere do doe?"

"_What_?"

Tony laughed as he spit out the mouth full of toothpaste. "I said what's there to know?" He translated before returning to brushing his teeth. Ziva didn't answer, choosing instead to return to her shower. Unfortunately, it was a legitimate question. _Was _there anything for anyone to know? Had last night just been a moment of weakness? Now that she'd actually had a full night's sleep and a better chance to think, would Ziva come up with _more_ excuses why they couldn't be together?

* * *

Gibbs was waiting with a glare when Ziva and Tony walked into the bullpen. McGee just looked between them, an eyebrow raised and a smile suppressed before he went back to his computer.

"Well, look who finally decided to join us."

"Sorry," they mumbled in one voice, each ducking their heads to look at the floor. What neither of them knew was that McGee had informed Gibbs of the incident with the phone call, and that the older man was secretly very amused by the position his senior and probationary agents had found themselves in.

He wasn't about to tell _them_ that, of course.

"If you two spent _half_ as much time doing work as you do apologizing, there'd never be anything to do around here."

They took that as a hint and quickly separated, darting for their own desks and making themselves look busy. Gibbs just shook his head as he turned away from them, suppressing a smirk of his own as he headed towards MTAC.

McGee waited until the boss was gone to turn to his partners, who were both giving more attention to their computers than what was strictly necessary. He was _dying_ to know what had happened last night; if he wasn't so worried that Ziva would throw a stapler at his head, he might have asked.

But he didn't have a death wish. So instead he went back to his own work after a minute, noting that, for the first time, the silence that had fallen over the bullpen wasn't strained or tense. It was honestly the most comfortable he had felt since Tony had returned.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yay, they're not in denial anymore! Well, not really. What will the next chapter bring? Review to find out! — Sam


	19. May I

_There you stand open heart, open doors  
Full of life with a world, that's wanting more  
But I can see where the lines start to fade  
The day is done and your smile  
Has gone away…_

_May I hold you as you fall to sleep  
When the world is closing in,  
And you can't breathe?  
May I love you, may I be your shield  
When no one can be found  
May I lay you down?_

* * *

_**Scene Nineteen — May I**_

The case was wrapped up, the i's dotted and the t's crossed. There was nothing left to do except go home.

Or, if your name happened to be Tony DiNozzo, go home and wonder if the woman you loved was going to be as accepting of you that night as she was the night before.

It was rather tense, pulling up in front of Ziva's apartment. Tony gripped the steering wheel tightly, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Say good night and drive away? Ask if he could come up? Demand to be allowed to?

"You are…not coming up?"

Ziva's hesitant question snapped Tony out of his reverie, and he looked around quickly at her. She was watching him with an unsure expression, clearly wondering just as many things as he had been. "Do you uh…do you want me to?" He asked after a moment, surprised. He hadn't thought it would be that easy.

"Well if you do not want to, I understand, I was just…wondering." She finished the statement rather lamely, her cheeks reddening just a bit. _Now_ Tony felt like they were a couple of teenagers negotiating their first kiss. And, just like teenagers, somebody had to take the plunge.

It looked like that someone would have to be him.

He found a place to park and turned the car off, climbing out and jogging around to the other side to open Ziva's door, putting on his best thousand-watt smile. She rolled her eyes as she climbed out, making a comment about being capable of opening her own car door.

Awkward tension broken.

They debated, the entire walk up to Ziva's apartment, between pizza and Chinese. Tony was really in more of a pizza mood, but he knew Ziva loved Chinese, he would have gotten it if that was what she wanted. She seemed to realize he was compromising though, and kept the argument alive, mostly for the sake of filling the silence — and to avoid having the conversation they each knew had to be held.

Finally it came down to a coin toss. "Heads pizza, tails Chinese," Tony declared as they walked into Ziva's apartment, and he dug a coin out of his pocket, expertly flipping it into the air. He was happy, and a little disappointed, when the result was heads. He ordered a half vegetarian, half meat-lovers, while Ziva tried to dig up something for them to drink. There was half a bottle of soda and a couple of water bottles in the fridge…and that was about it. It was inevitable that her mind flash to the case of beer in Tony's fridge, with the post it note she'd read a thousand times, the words scribbled in Tony's messy scrawl: _Give to Ziva_.

"Wow Zi, your fridge is seriously lacking." She jumped as Tony's voice spoke up from right behind her, whirling around. "Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to scare ya." He paused for a moment, his face settling into more of a serious look as he took in her expression. "Something wrong?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "No, it is nothing. Sorry, this appears to be all I have to drink."

Tony shrugged, still clearly a bit concerned. "Its fine, don't worry. Hey you know, I still owe you a case of beer, if you want I can run down to the store and pick one up…"

Ziva attempted to banish the images that popped into her mind, of Tony's car being crushed by an eighteen-wheeler, a gun-wielding robber walking into the store and shooting any witnesses…

"I do not care either way, if you want beer though, I can give you the money…"

"The whole point of me _owing_ you a case of beer is that _I_ buy it," Tony said with a smile as he grabbed his jacket and car keys. "Be back in a few."

The door had barely shut behind him, and Ziva was already panicking. She attempted to busy herself, getting plates and paper towel for napkins, digging through her entertainment center to see if Tony's copy of _The Pirate Ship_. He'd lent it to her months upon months ago when their first attempt to watch it had failed due to Ziva falling asleep less than a quarter of the way through. She was strangely pleased when she managed to dig it up. This and _The Sound of Music_ were the only movies she had in her apartment. She knew Tony would prefer watching _his_ movie over _her_ favorite.

Ten minutes. Still no Tony. She picked up her cell-phone and flipped it open, hitting speed dial three before she'd fully comprehended what she was doing. She jumped when Tony's cell-phone rang merrily from her coffee table. That _idiot_, he'd forgotten his damn cell-phone…

She huffed as she flipped her phone shut again and threw it onto the table before doing the one thing that came to mind: she paced.

_It does not take ten minutes to drive to the store, he should have been back long before now. Maybe…maybe he had car trouble. His car might have broken down. Or maybe there is a line at the store, it is probably busy around this time, yes? I am sure he is fine. Tony is just fine_.

She just needed to keep telling herself that. Tony was fine. He was just going to the store. He was just fine.

_Knock-Knock-Knock_

_The sound of knuckles against Ziva's front door broke the two apart. Ziva looked between Abby and the door, the bewilderment she was feeling clear in Abby's eyes. "Maybe my neighbor locked himself out again…" Ziva mumbled as she started towards the door._

_Her stomach dropped when she looked through the peephole and saw Gibbs standing on the other side_.

Ice flooded through Ziva's veins as someone knocked on her front door. And the images were back — car accidents, robbers with guns, random explosions…

_Knock-Knock-Knock_

The knocking started again, more persistent than before, and Ziva knew she should probably answer, her neighbor might have really locked himself out, he would need Ziva's help…

There was a two minute pause, and suddenly the doorknob was turning and the door was opening and Tony was walking in, balancing a case of beer and a pizza box. "Hey, any particular reason you ignored the pizza guy?" He asked as he kicked the door shut. Ziva snapped out of her panicked reverie and quickly sprang across the room to take something. Tony gratefully handed over the beer.

"So…" Ziva said slowly as they walked into the kitchen. Her attempt at casual was only _just_ failing. "You um…took longer than I thought you would."

Tony's head snapped up as he set the pizza down. "Oh. Well uh, the store down the street was closed, water pipe burst or…something, I don't know, but I ended up going a little further, and there was a line, and…sorry."

"It is no big deal," Ziva said at once. "I was just wondering…you left your cell-phone here."

"Yeah, I noticed, I was gonna shoot you off a text, let ya know, but…"

His voice drifted off, and Ziva was really beginning to wish she hadn't brought the subject up. "Well…let's eat, shall we?"

The meal started off in a strained silence. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, Ziva said, "You know, I still have your copy of _The Pirate Ship_. Perhaps after we finish eating you could finally make me watch it."

Tony's face lit up at this. "Right! I completely forgot you had that, actually. You still haven't watched it?"

"Well Tony I have better things to do with my time than watch _every_ movie you recommend to me. I would not have a life if I tried to watch _all_ of them."

"Lives are overrated."

Ziva rolled her eyes, shaking her head slowly, though she was smiling. She was disgusted now by her earlier panic. It was unnecessary, there had been no reason for it. Just because Tony went out of her sight didn't mean he was going to die. For everything that she could really do, it was just as possible that he would die when she was standing right next to him.

Anything was possible, after all.

But she couldn't think about that.

Tony watched Ziva as they ate — or rather, _he_ ate, and Ziva picked the veggies off her single slice before taking a couple of bites and tearing apart the crust. "Please tell me you're going to eat more than that," he said when she pushed her plate away. There was still more than half a slice there.

"I am not really that hungry," she mumbled, tugging at a strand of loose hair. Tony sighed as he paused in the process of grabbing a third slice.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said quietly. Before Ziva could protest, he continued speaking. "I should have remembered my cell-phone that was a blatant disregard for rule number three, Gibbs would slap me into next week if he knew."

"I do not care, Tony. Really."

Right. And McGee was_ really_ a playboy.

They brought the pizza and beer into the living room and started the movie. Tony was pleasantly surprised when Ziva actually made an effort to stay awake, though he'd admit, it hurt just a little that she curled up in the corner of the couch, as far from him as she could get. Her face maintained a distant, troubled expression for the length of the movie, making Tony wonder how much she actually _watched_.

When the movie ended was when things began to get dicey. This was usually the part where Tony bid Ziva good night and went home. Except he didn't _want_ to go home now.

And he had absolutely no clue what Ziva wanted him to do.

They stood in the middle of the living room, watching each other with hesitant, uncertain expressions. "Can I just say I don't really want to leave?" Tony finally asked, throwing caution to the winds. A small, hesitant smile pulled at Ziva's lips.

"I do not really want you to leave either. But…you should."

Tony resisted the urge to groan. "_Why_? I don't want to leave, you don't _want_ me to leave, if I _do_ leave neither of us are going to sleep tonight, why put ourselves through that? Why not just let me stay?"

The look on Ziva's face was one of surprising sympathy — and regret. "Because, Tony, I had a panic attack when you were out of my sight for twenty minutes. And I need to get over that, which I will not be able to do if we spend every night together. It is just not plausible that we will be able to spend every moment for the rest of our lives in each other's sights."

"Sure it is," Tony replied at once. "As a matter of fact I would be perfectly okay if you were to _never_ leave my range of vision ever again. It's the perfect arrangement in my eyes."

"Tony it is irrational."

"And I'm okay with that." Tony was starting to get impatient. Even now, she was trying to rationalize this. It had to stop. "Remember that part where I said I love you? Generally those words come with underlying meaning 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you.' So if that means never letting you out of my sight again, _fine_. I am _more_ than okay with that arrangement."

Ziva rocked back on her heels for a moment, running a hand through her hair. "It is still not rational," she said after a moment. But Tony could see her resolve crumbling.

"Humans generally aren't."

Finally, _finally_ Ziva gave in. "It is late. Perhaps we should just…go to bed."

A small smile pulled at Tony's lips. He really hoped _every_ night wasn't a huge debate.

* * *

It was strange, yet oddly comforting, waking up in Tony's arms. Not that she hadn't done the same thing every morning for the past month. Ziva supposed it was waking up without having spent the night watching Tony _die_ in her dreams that made things different.

And that was the best part: her dreams had been completely void of anything even slightly Tony-death related. She couldn't really remember any of what she had dreamt, quite honestly. But that was the way she liked it. If she didn't remember her dreams, they couldn't have been that significant.

A low groan drew Ziva's attention, and she looked over her shoulder, tired eyes landing on Tony, who was still fast asleep. He squirmed closer to Ziva, burying his face in her hair, and Ziva couldn't help but smile, just a little. She probably should have been getting up, getting ready to go for her run, getting ready to face the day…

Oh well. It _was_ Saturday. And she was allowed to have a lazy moment every once in a while, right?

After a few minutes sleep dragged Ziva back under its protective blanket; she willingly gave in to the blissful oblivion, still relishing in the feeling of Tony's arms around her.

When Ziva awoke again the bed next to her was empty, cold. Vestiges of sleep making her more irrational than usual, she sat up, blinking rapidly and looking around. "Tony?" She called, trying not to sound too panicked.

"Kitchen."

Relief flooded through her as she stumbled out of bed, shivering just as a little as her bare feet touched the cold floor. It was a strange sight, seeing Tony standing in her kitchen, at her stove, _cooking_. "I am a little afraid to ask what you are making," she teased lightly, walking up behind him and attempting to peak into the pan. She laughed when he pushed her away.

"No way. Nobody sees the DiNozzo Special until it's completely done."

"DiNozzo Special?" Ziva scoffed, and Tony laughed.

"Yeah, ya know, I'm not a gourmet chef like you, but I know a couple of things. Enough to throw together something decent, at least. Go sit, grab a glass of OJ, and let me work my magic."

"OJ?" Ziva repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Orange juice."

"I do not have—"

"Ran to the store this morning to pick a few things up. Juice is in the fridge." Ziva tilted her head, smiling just a bit, before going over to the fridge and finding the orange juice right where Tony had said it would be. She ignored the way her stomach flipped slightly at the thought of Tony leaving the apartment while she was sleeping; it really wasn't that big of a deal, after all…

The "DiNozzo Special" turned out to be an omelet, though Ziva would admit, it was one of the best omelets she'd ever had. Tony refused to tell her what was in it. They spent most of the meal bantering lightly, with both thinking they could easily get used to this.

"Magic, right?" Tony boasted happily as Ziva finished.

Ziva rolled her eyes.

The rest of the day was spent killing time. Ziva finally acknowledged that she _was_ in need of a good shopping trip, and Tony accompanied her to the store, _tsk-_ing at the lack of junk food in her cart. She made it a point to ignore him, focusing instead on what the two of them must have looked like to a casual observer.

Then she started wondering what she _wanted_ them to look like.

They finished off the last of the pizza for lunch, never short on pointless conversation. At one point Tony began to wonder if he was going to wear his welcome out, but Ziva never gave any signs that she was going to throw him out.

"Ziva have you ever considered, I dunno…_decorating_?" Tony asked as he looked around the apartment. It was a common thought for him, though not one he often felt brave enough to voice. Ziva hadn't made an effort to decorate her apartment, make it seem more _homey_, after she had come back from Somalia. Granted she'd lost everything when her old apartment had been blown up, but still…there was really no sign that anyone actually _lived_ in the apartment. No sense of permanence.

It was kind of frightening.

"I feel like the only time I am ever here is to sleep — and even _that_ is questionable sometimes. Why bother decorating?"

"Well it's just…" Tony shrugged as he tried to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. "This place is a little depressing."

"There is a reason I generally only come here to sleep."

Ziva made supper, some sort of chicken concoction whose name Tony couldn't pronounce, but he loved it anyways, and lamented once more about Ziva's cooking skills going to waste. As the night wore on, there was still no talk of Tony leaving.

Which was the way he liked it.

It was almost eleven when the first signs of tiredness began to make themselves known in Ziva's face. Never-mind that Tony had been yawning for almost an hour. It was probably time for bed. "You are out of clothes, aren't you?" Ziva asked after a moment, sounding strangely apprehensive.

"I can go to my apartment tomorrow and pick a few things up."

Which answered the question of whether or not Tony would be spending the night.

* * *

_The only thought running through Ziva's currently pain-filled mind was, _It's too hot_, as she was dragged through the halls of the dilapidated building, the burlap sack over her head making her face itchy and uncomfortable. She'd been confused when Saleem had stormed into her cell, looking more murderous than usual, and shoved the sack over her head, dragging her up and shoving her out the door. He'd left her alone for the last few days; honestly, she thought she'd been left to die._

_While she'd been lost in thought, she'd been pushed into another room and forced to sit. Suddenly the bag flew off her head, and she found herself face to face…with Tony. Bewildered, relieved green eyes met dark, hopeless brown. And all Ziva could wonder was, _what is he doing here?

_Suddenly she heard the sickeningly familiar _click_ of a gun, and Saleem was standing next to Tony, the gun pressed against the man's temple._

_"No!"_

_The sound of her scream was lost in the resonating _bang_ that echoed as Saleem pulled the trigger. Ziva felt as if she could _see_ the bullet digging into Tony's skin, burrowing through his brain, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake before blowing out the other side in a bloody explosion._

"No!"

Ziva's eyes flew open, a strangled, choked gasp escaping her lips. She found herself staring at the ceiling for about half a second before she rolled out of bed, her stomach rebelling angrily. She barely managed to stumble into the bathroom before her knees gave out from beneath her, and she bent over the toilet, retching.

A strong arm came around her waist, bracing her against a broad chest, while a gentle hand swept her hair back.

Stomach emptied, Ziva collapsed into Tony's grip, gasping for breath. Surprisingly soft fingers smoothed Ziva's hair away from her sweat-soaked face. After a moment, Tony carefully pulled Ziva up; she wobbled unsteadily, but managed to get herself over to the counter, which she then collapsed against. She could feel Tony's concerned gaze on her as she fumbled to find her toothpaste and toothbrush.

"Wanna talk?" He asked after a moment. Ziva pressed her lips together and shook her head. She didn't trust herself to talk. Not yet.

Tony waited until she'd finished brushing her teeth and they'd moved back into the bedroom before prompting, "Now?"

Ziva collapsed onto the bed, looking absolutely drained. Tony sat down carefully, watching as she ran a hand through her hair before scrubbing her eyes tiredly. "Old nightmare," she finally muttered, blinking a bit more than what was probably necessary. "Really old, actually. Right after I…came back from Somalia, I had two different dreams, every night, for almost two months. One I was simply back in Somalia, and everything that had happened, you rescuing me, Gibbs killing Saleem…_that_ was all a dream." She paused for a moment, blowing out a large breath. "That was disorienting to wake up from. The second dream was…far more disturbing." Tony couldn't imagine _that_, but he'd humor Ziva on that note. "I would…dream…that Saleem killed you…and McGee…and sometimes Gibbs, it really depended on how far the dream got." Okay, maybe it _was_ a little more disturbing.

"So…tonight…?"

"Scaled down version of the second dream. Only you died."

Tony could tell there was more to it than that — _something_ she wasn't telling. But the fact that she was talking at all was a miracle in itself; he wasn't about to push her any more. "It does not matter," Ziva said finally, crawling back under the blankets. Tony hesitated for a moment before joining her, his arms winding around her waist and pulling her against his chest. He was surprised when she relaxed into his grip. Another moment of hesitation, and he pressed his lips against the top of her head.

"I love you," he mumbled into her hair. If he'd been talking to a _normal_ person, there was no way he would have been heard.

His crazy ninja was _far_ from normal though.

"I love you too."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Aw! They made progress! Next chapter is the last, review if you want it out faster! — Sam


	20. For the First Time

_We're gonna start by  
__Drinkin' on cheap bottles of wine  
__Sit talkin' up all night  
__Saying things we haven't for awhile  
__Smiling but we're close to tears  
__Even after all these years  
__Just now got the feeling that we're meeting  
__For the first time_

* * *

_**Scene Twenty — For the First Time**_

No one was really surprised when Ziva and Tony walked into the office together on Monday morning, both looking happier than anyone had seen them in a _long_ time. They stopped as they nearly ran into Gibbs, who was on his way out of the bullpen as they were on their way in. He looked between the two of them, taking in the radiant, lightened looks. And he just shook his head.

"Remember what I said, DiNozzo."

He'd said a lot of things, Tony reflected dumbly. "Boss…?"

He looked at Ziva, then back at Tony, jerking a finger at the former. "Break her heart, I break your neck."

And with that he pushed past the two of them, leaving a rather frightened senior agent and bemused probationary agent in his wake. McGee was trying not to laugh as he pretended he hadn't noticed one word of the exchange.

It was a slow day of paperwork. At one point Abby came up under the pretense of discussing some computer thing with McGee, but she spent the entire time staring expectantly at Tony and Ziva. "Oh come on!" She said after nearly twenty minutes. "Do something couple-like already!"

The two exchanged bewildered glances, McGee shook his head, and of course Gibbs chose that exact moment to walk into the bullpen. "Couple-like, Abby?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow. "What do ya want, for DiNozzo to throw Ziva down on the desk and start makin' out with her?"

Tony's eyes lit up at the thought, and Ziva crumpled up a piece of paper, throwing it at his head. Abby slipped out of the bullpen as soon as Gibbs had turned his back.

It was a good, quiet day.

Which was why Tony was so bewildered by how silent and serious Ziva was for the duration of the ride back to her apartment. "Penny for your thoughts," he finally said as they pulled up in front of her building. She turned to look at him, a look of confusion in place.

"What?"

Tony sighed as he turned the car off, twisting the key out of the ignition and turning to face Ziva fully. "You've been way too quiet, which I would understand if something awful had happened, but all and all, I thought today was fairly good. So spill, David. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Ziva almost smiled as she looked around. "Do you really want to have this conversation in the car?"

"…Fair enough," Tony ceded before opening his door. Some conversations just weren't meant to be had in cars, after all.

He had to be patient, of course. They got upstairs, Ziva disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, and Tony set to work with ordering take out for supper; he had a feeling Ziva wasn't going to be in the mood to cook, and if it involved something more complicated than a microwave, Tony couldn't really handle it.

Ziva emerged from the shower as Tony was tipping the delivery boy; her hair was hanging loose and damp around her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeve zipper-up pulled on over a camisole. She smiled a bit when she saw the take-out boxes.

"Hungry?"

It really was nice, Ziva reflected as they sat down to eat. Having Tony around her twenty-four/seven was surprisingly not as annoying as Ziva would have once believed it would be. Yes, he talked too much, and yes he made annoyingly incessant movie references that she could have lived without. But after a month of thinking she would never hear any of it ever again, she could certainly live with it.

"So," Tony said casually as he jabbed his chopsticks in Ziva's direction. "You wanna talk about it, or am I gonna have to charm it out of ya with my dastardly good looks and charismatic smile?"

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him, biting back a smile. "Did that sound _any_ better in your head than it did out-loud?"

"Only a little. Barely. Don't change the subject." Tony set his chopsticks down, giving Ziva his full attention. "Why were you so upset when we left work today?"

Ziva sighed as she set down her chopsticks as well. It was just as good; she really wasn't that hungry. "I was not upset," she said after a moment, earning herself a disbelieving look. "Really, I was not, it is just…this weekend was good. Better than any weekend I have had in a while. And I just…do not want it to end."

"What makes you think it's going to end?" Was Tony's immediate question.

"Things are…starting to go back to normal, finally. You are…not dead, I am back on the field; the nightmares seem to be…lessening, at least. And normal is…you _not_ spending every night in my apartment."

She was surprised when Tony actually smiled. "Who says normal has to be the _old_ normal?" A bewildering question if Ziva had ever heard one. "I say we make a new kind of normal. Because I kind of like the way we've been for the last couple of days. I dunno about you, but I kind of _really_ like living with you. A lot. I wouldn't mind a repeat of this last weekend _every_ weekend for…you know, however long we live."

A small, amused smile pulled at Ziva's lips. It was funny, listening to the commitment-phobic talk about things like _forever_ and _the rest of our lives_. But they were phrases he'd used a _lot_ in the last couple of days. She supposed she should take it as a sign of just how committed he really was to all of this.

Tony's own grin widened as he stood up, reaching a hand out to Ziva. She placed her palm against his, allowing her fingers to curl around her hand and pull her up, looping one arm around her waist and leaning in, pressing a light kiss to her lips. He'd barely pulled away when Ziva quickly moved to close the space between them once more, initiating a deeper, far more intimate kiss that lasted much longer. Tony's head was spinning when they finally pulled apart.

"Well…that was…"

"Nice?" Ziva prompted with a sly smile. Tony grinned.

"Better than nice. Much, much better."

Ziva was still smiling as she closed her eyes, resting her head against Tony's shoulder and pulling in a deep breath. Breathing in his scent. "I love you," she murmured after a moment. It was amazing how natural the words felt.

Tony wrapped his other arm around Ziva, holding her tightly and burying his face in her hair.

"I love you too."

* * *

Ziva had been in Gibbs' basement more than her fair share of times in the last couple of months. Tony had been there enough times since he'd returned.

It was definitely a surprise when _both_ of them came down the basement stairs though.

Gibbs looked up from his boat, smiling faintly. "Looks like I'm being tag-teamed." Serious looks greeted his statement. "Oh boy." He sighed as he set his sandpaper aside, giving Ziva a once over. "Way too early in the relationship for you to know you're pregnant, so that can't be why you're here. What's up?"

"Well…" Tony rocked back on his heels, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "We…I mean, um…Ziva-has-something-she-wants-to-tell-you."

And with that he turned to dart back upstairs. "No way." Ziva grabbed his arm, dragging him back and holding him firmly at her side. "You are _not_ putting this off on me; it was _your_ idea—"

"Hey, no one told you to agree!"

"Someone wanna let _me_ in on the idea?" Gibbs said loudly, suppressing a smile when Tony and Ziva moved as one to turn back to him.

"All right," Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We uh…we would like to…"

"To move in together," Ziva finally completed the statement when Tony refused to. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. It seemed incredibly impossible that she was the same wild, unpredictable Mossad officer that had walked into his bullpen five years ago, impossible that he was the same playboy agent he'd taken under his wing years earlier, eager but crazy, reliable in one way but completely undependable in another.

There was no way _these_ were the same two people.

"I was under the impression you two were _already_ living together," he said as he picked up his sandpaper and returned to his work. "I've been waiting for the change of address form for weeks. So who's going where?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged surprised yet pleased looks. "Well…Tony's apartment is bigger, and I do not own as much stuff…"

As Ziva spoke, Tony wound his arms around her waist from behind, holding her loosely. It was casual, but Gibbs could sense a certain air of possession. He could tell the younger man was enjoying this.

And clearly Ziva was as well; she hadn't pushed his arms away yet.

* * *

Ziva and Abby jumped as a loud _crash_, followed by a string of swears, echoed through the apartment. "Hey, language!" Abby called with a laugh as she and Ziva slipped out of the bedroom, heading into the living room.

"Seriously McGee, be freakin' _careful_, I think she loves this thing more than she loves me…"

"That's not hard," was all McGee could manage to huff as he and Tony carefully eased Ziva's coffee table through the front door. She'd had no problem with sacrificing most of her furniture; it had all been hand-me-downs she had acquired upon her return from Somalia.

But the coffee table was special. She wasn't getting rid of that.

"Don't drop it," Tony warned McGee as they finally managed to get the table into the living room. "I really think if we break this she'll dump me."

"It is a distinct possibility," Ziva admitted with a smile. They set the coffee table down, and McGee collapsed onto the couch, gasping for air.

"Come on Probie, she's got a bookcase too."

"You're not paying me enough for this," McGee groaned as he dragged himself up, following Tony back out into the hall.

"Think we should help them?" Abby asked, cocking her head as she watched the men walk. Ziva thought about it for a moment.

"Well…we are trying to unpack the boxes. That is a big job in itself; it requires a lot of attention."

"Good point Ziva. Good point."

They laughed as they went back to the unpacking. The task was interrupted when there was another _crash_, and this time McGee was the one swearing.

"Wow, I didn't know Timmy knew those words," Abby said thoughtfully, biting her lip to keep from cracking up.

"Tony is a bad influence."

"Are you two really just gonna sit there all day and laugh at us?" Tony called around McGee, who was still swearing his head off.

"Come on McGee, there are little kids on this floor somewhere, they don't need you tainting their innocent ears."

In a whirlwind of crushed toes and swears, Tony and McGee finally managed to work the bookshelf into the apartment. "Seriously Ziva, you are the _only_ person I know who still has bookcases. Join the rest of us in the twenty-first century, wouldcha?"

"Gibbs has bookcases."

"I rest my case."

It was a relief when they'd finished moving the biggest things, leaving them with just the boxes of clothes and books — the latter of which _far_ outnumbered the former.

"I think she owns as many books as you do DVDs and video tapes."

"Without a doubt, Probie. Without a doubt."

Abby's laugh, mixed with the low tenor of Ziva's own chuckle, echoed through the apartment, and Tony closed his eyes for a moment, just savoring it. "You know I really never thought she'd be this happy again," McGee said as he maneuvered a bookcase into a corner. "After the uh…the funeral—" Tony flinched a bit, as did McGee, "After what happened, I really never thought she'd be able to find it in herself to be happy."

"McGee—" This wasn't really something Tony wanted to hear. It had been two months; Ziva was _finally_ starting to really move on. Tony really didn't want the reminder.

"I know, I know. I'm just saying. After everything that's happened…I'm glad she was able to come back from it all."

Another round of laughter, and Tony smiled.

"Yeah. So am I."

* * *

A shuddering gasp tore through Ziva's entire body as her eyes flew open, her breath escaping in shallow huffs. She struggled to disentangle herself from the death grip her still-sleeping boyfriend had her in, not wanting to disturb him with the panic attack she could tell was coming. Disconnected images flashed past her eyes as she forced herself to trip into the bathroom. She managed to get the door closed before she slid down against the smooth wood, closing her eyes and reminding herself to breathe evenly, not to gulp the air in, that would just make it worse…

The sound of knuckles rapping lightly against wood startled Ziva a bit and she stumbled up, yanking the door open and revealing a very concerned Tony standing on the other side. They stared at each other for a long time before Ziva sighed, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"Sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. Tony sighed as he stepped forward, winding his arms around her small, shaking body and hugging her tightly.

"Don't ever be sorry," he murmured in her ear as he held her, one hand tangling in her hair. "You know damn well you don't have anything to be sorry for."

She shuddered again, burying her face in his shoulder. "What'd you dream about?" Tony asked after a moment, tightening his grip a little when a choked sob tried to force its way past Ziva's lips. "Zi…"

She shook her head as she pulled away, scrubbing her eyes hurriedly. "Nothing, nothing…you should go back to bed—"

"_Ziva_—" Her breath caught in her throat, and Tony cut himself off hurriedly, cursing. He really hated pushing her — and it hadn't been necessary for so long — but he didn't want her to think it was okay for her to start locking up inside herself again. "Come on," he finally sighed, looping an arm around her shoulder and gently steering her back towards the bed. She lowered herself onto the bed, curling up into a tight ball under the covers, and Tony walked around to the other side, crawling under the blankets and wrapping his arms around Ziva's stiff form.

It didn't take long for Ziva to give in. "It was the shooting again," she murmured after a moment, her voice shaking a little. "All I could hear was you saying 'you can't get rid of me that easily anyways.'" Tony winced; such a stupid thing to say, in retrospect. "Those words haunted me after…after. It still hurts to hear it now."

God. He really was an idiot. "I'm sorry," he murmured, burying his face in her hair and pressing his lips against the top of her head. "I didn't know…"

But Ziva shook her head. "You do not have anything to be sorry for," she informed him, echoing his own words back, and he chuckled dryly.

Suddenly Ziva uncurled from her tight position, rolling over so she was facing Tony. Before he could question her, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips against his and kissing him slowly. Tony reacted without really thinking, melding his lips with hers. He was surprised when her lips parted, her tongue slipping out, running along his lips, begging for entrance. Tony allowed her in, again without much thought.

Suddenly she pulled away, a tight smile pulling at her lips again. "Is that your knee again?" She asked with a small smile, and god help Tony he couldn't find it in himself to answer. Luckily he didn't have to worry about it as she was kissing him again, a bit more passionately this time, then she forced him to roll on his back so she could roll on top of him, and even as she continued to kiss him her hands wandered downward, one set of fingers sliding slowly over his thighs, the other set fingering the drawstring of his sweatpants.

_Oh man_, Tony groaned silently. He fought the urge to grab the hem of her shirt, yank it off, choosing instead to take the more responsible route and pull away. "Ziva—"

She was giving him a look that he recognized far too well, a look he had received a _lot_ when she'd first arrived at NCIS, when she'd thought seducing Tony was the only way to get him to do anything for her.

Despite how sexy it was, how turned on he'd been at that time, Tony really hated that look now.

"Something wrong?" She whispered, her voice low and throaty. She didn't give him a chance to answer, instead pressing her lips against his again. Tony forced himself to pull away once more, well aware that his self-control was waning quickly.

"Not now, Zi. Not tonight."

She wasn't put off, at least. Probably confused, but she didn't show it. "Because tonight is just so different from tomorrow night, yes?"

"Yes, actually." _God_ she made it hard to focus when she looked at him like that. "Because tomorrow night, hopefully before we do this, you won't have had a panic attack five minutes before because you dreamed I was dead."

"That does not have anything to do with it," Ziva argued, sounding frustrated now. Tony sighed as he found her hands, moving them so they were above his waist.

"Yeah, it does. You're upset, you're emotional—"

"Perhaps I just want to have sex, did you ever think of _that_?"

Tony half-smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, rolling so they were lying side by side on the bed and keeping his arms around her. "I can tell you want to have sex," he informed her. "I just don't think it's a good idea. Not tonight."

"Since when do _you_ think sex is not a good idea?"

He gave her another small smile as he leaned in, kissing her lightly and pulling away before she could try and go anywhere with it. "Since right now. You know I love you and you know I want you. But I don't want it to happen like this, when you're emotional, when you're not thinking clearly. The first time we make love, it's not going to be because you just dreamed I was dead and you want to prove to yourself that I'm alive. It's going to be because you just want me."

Ziva stared at him for a long time, the anger, the tension draining slowly from her features. Finally her body relaxed, and she sighed, closing her eyes and scooting in so there was no space left between them. And Tony buried his face in her hair, holding her tightly.

"I love you," he murmured. "You know that, right?"

She nodded, suddenly looking too tired to even form words. But she still managed to say, "I love you too."

The first time they made love it was slow and sensual, and entirely because they wanted to. And neither of them ever forgot.

* * *

Abby and Ziva exchanged sad, slightly disgusted looks before looking at their other halves. McGee was having a hard time sitting up straight, and Tony was looking at the girls with wide, abnormally bright eyes.

"Hey Mc…Mc…Person, look, Abby 'n' Ziva are here!"

"Can't leave you two alone for even a minute," Abby sighed as she helped McGee off the barstool, pulling his arm over her shoulder and supporting his weight. McGee forced his blurry, unfocused eyes to look at Abby.

"Mmm…Bee?"

"Yes Timmy, it's Abby." She half-laughed at this, shooting Ziva an amused look. "Want help getting Tony home?"

"No, you are going to have your hands full with McGee. I will take care of Tony."

"Good luck," Abby laughed as she started steering McGee towards the door. Ziva shook her head, looking back at her inebriated boyfriend.

"Okay Tony, time to go."

"Whyyyyy?" Tony whined unhappily as Ziva dragged him off his barstool.

"Because the bartender is sick of you." Tony laughed as he fell against Ziva; she barely managed to catch him and herself before her knees went out. "Whoops. Sorry Zee-_vah_."

"No problem," she sighed as she started towards the door. Tony stumbled a bit, nearly knocking Ziva over.

"You and McGee are never having a 'boy's night out' again," she informed him, a bit irritated.

"Aaawww, but I like my Timmy time."

Ziva sighed, resisting the urge to smile. "Tony should I be worried that you are cheating on me with McGee?"

"_No_." He sounded offended by this. "I like Timmy but I _love_ you. There's a difference."

And Ziva laughed. "Do not worry Tony, I was just kidding. I know you would never cheat on me."

"Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

She shoved him into the car, shaking her head as she closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. "Hey, hey, you can't drive," Tony protested when he saw Ziva climbing into the driver's seat. "You, you're dangerous when you drive."

"I promise you will not be much better right now," Ziva informed him as she started the car. "Sit back and close your eyes, we will be home before you know it."

Tony made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat as he did as he was told. Ziva managed to get them home in one piece, and then it was just a matter of dragging Tony up eight flights of stairs — because of _course_ the elevator would choose tonight to be out.

"Where we goin'?" Tony asked blearily as he looked around.

"We are going to our apartment, Tony. And then you are going to bed."

"But I don't _wanna_ go to bed."

"Well luckily for me I do not care about what you want."

It took almost twenty minutes to get Tony into the apartment. He spent most of it babbling incoherently about McGee and bar peanuts — Ziva didn't ask for clarification on that. "Bed!" He laughed when Ziva dragged him into their bedroom and proceeded to flop down on the bed, bouncing up and down.

"Do not jump on the bed, Tony," she scolded him lightly, and he pouted.

"You're a mean mommy."

"I am your girlfriend, not your mommy." She grabbed his t-shirt and sweatpants off the bureau and threw them at him. "Get changed."

"Dress me?"

Ziva sighed, rolling her eyes and walking over to him. "Only because you are drunk," she informed him seriously as she slipped his suit jacket off and beginning to unbutton his dress shirt. She was distracted for a moment when he suddenly pushed himself up, pressing his lips against hers. She pulled away at once, her face twisting into a disgusted look.

"Aw, you don't wanna kiss me?"

"All I can taste is alcohol, it is disgusting. And you are drunk. We are not doing anything tonight."

"Aaawww…"

She smiled as she slipped his dress shirt off and grabbed his t-shirt, pulling it on over his head. "You are doing the pants yourself," she said as she stepped away from him, amused by his ruffled hair and bright eyes. She couldn't be mad that he was drunk as all hell; he was too cute.

"Oh all _right_." He sighed as he started to stand, and Ziva turned to leave; she wasn't really surprised when he grabbed her wrist, holding her back. "Hey Zee-_vah_?"

"Yes Tony?"

"Will you marry me?"

Ziva smiled, a bit sadly, as she turned back to look at Tony, shaking her wrist out of his grip. "Ask me when you are sober," was all she said before she walked out. She went into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. She was surprised, when she turned around, to see Tony standing in the kitchen door, his face completely serious. He held up a small velvet box.

"I'm sober."

* * *

Abby was waiting to pounce on Ziva the next morning. "Did he getcha, did he getcha?" She asked eagerly, cornering Ziva as she started to sit down. Ziva shot her a bewildered look.

"Wait…you knew?"

"Of course! You didn't really think Tim would go out and get drunk with Tony, did you?" Abby asked incredulously. "Honestly Ziva, you should know better." Ziva shifted her eyes to McGee who grinned, then looked at Tony, who was clearly trying not to laugh. "So let's see!"

Ziva was still trying to process all of this as she hooked a finger around the chain of her Star of David, pulling it up for Abby to see the addition to the necklace. "Oh wow, it's _beautiful_," she breathed, a grin pulling at her lips.

"You have not seen it before?"

"Nope. Tony was determined that you would be the first one to see it. Kind of romantic actually…"

"Not necessarily a smart move on DiNozzo's part, but at least he got it right on the first try," Gibbs said as he walked into the bullpen. One look at him told Ziva that _he_ had known about all this ahead of time as well. "First time for everything, I suppose."

"You sayin' I screw up a lot, boss?" Gibbs just stared at Tony, who grinned sheepishly. "Point taken."

Gibbs rolled his eyes before turning back to Ziva, who was now listening to Abby's endless monologue about everything they had to do before the wedding.

"You _did_ pick a date, right?" She said suddenly, cutting herself off.

"Abby he just proposed last night, we have not thought much about—"

"But you _have_ to have a date!" Abby protested at once, jumping off the edge of Ziva's desk. "That's the most important part, that's how you decide what kind of dress you get, what color, whether it's an indoor or outdoor wedding—"

"Eloping is starting to sound better and better," Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair and chuckling. Ziva, of course, heard his comment; she peaked around Abby, who was bouncing excitedly, shooting Tony a smile and winking.

"And of course you're going to have to figure out who your maid of honor is—"

"You mean you have not already claimed the position for yourself?" Ziva asked, genuinely shocked. Abby stopped mid-bounce, her mouth falling open as she turned to look at Ziva.

"R-R-_Really_?" She stuttered after a moment, and Ziva nodded. After a moment Abby's lips split into a wide grin. "Ohmygod, _yes_!" She shrieked, throwing herself at Ziva and wrapping her arms tightly around the woman's neck, hugging her with all strength. Tony could actually see Ziva starting to turn blue.

"Uh…Abby? Might wanna let her breathe or she's not gonna live to see the wedding day."

"Oh, _right_!" Abby squeaked as she pulled away from Ziva, resuming her bouncing. Ziva just shook her head, smiling. Sometimes, Abby was too easy to please.

* * *

Gibbs looked up from his sanding, surprised that the set of light footsteps descending down the stairs were alone. It was very rare to see Ziva without Tony anymore, or vice-versa.

She stood at the edge of the stairs, mahogany eyes meeting blue. After a moment Gibbs held out a piece of sandpaper, and Ziva smiled as she moved further into the basement, taking the paper and setting to work.

They sanded in silence for a few, neither thinking about the last time they had done this together. That was the past; a darker time. It didn't need to be revisited.

"I talked to my father today."

Gibbs blinked, surprise managing to make itself known in his expression. "Oh yeah? How'd that go?"

"Well, he is…not too happy about my choice for a future husband."

"Did you expect him to be?" Ziva shook her head in time with the movement of her hand up and down the beam of the boat. "So I'm guessing he _won't_ be making an appearance for the wedding." Another headshake. "Hmn. Well it's probably for the best. Bad things seem to happen when he comes into the picture."

"You have noticed that too?" Gibbs chuckled dryly. "I did not expect him to come. And it is probably better that he does not, he is…not Tony's biggest fan." Because why _would_ Eli David care at all for the man that was almost solely responsible for saving his daughter from certain death? "It does not bother me much, even if I ever _did_ imagine I was going to get married someday, I was never foolish enough to believe he would be there to see it."

"His loss." Gibbs, of course, would have given anything to be able to walk his daughter down the aisle, see her be married. It pissed him off to no end that Eli was missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because he didn't like who his daughter was marrying. Not that his anger was doing Ziva any good.

"Still, this leaves me with a…a problem, of sorts." Gibbs stopped sanding now, turning to look at Ziva, who had stopped sanding as well; she was just staring at the boat now. "It would be…nice to have someone walk me down the aisle. As I said before, I never expected that my father would be there to do it. But now…now I have someone who is better than my father." She turned her head a bit to look at Gibbs out of the corner of her eye, a small, sad smile pulling at her lips. "I know I am not Kelly, but perhaps…if you were willing…"

Her voice drifted off as Gibbs stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her petite form and hugging her tightly.

"You _are_ my daughter, Ziver," he whispered in her ear. "And I would be honored to walk you down the aisle."

Ziva pulled in a deep breath, resting her head against his shoulder and raising her arms to return the hug, a soft smile gracing her lips.

McGee was surprised, when he stepped off the elevator, to see Tony sitting in the bullpen, alone. Ziva had definitely been there when McGee had gone down to Abby's lab an hour earlier.

"Where's your other half?" He asked as he walked into the bullpen. Tony was currently leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"She said she had something she needed to do. Right before she left she was on the phone with her father, so I'm guessing she's at Gibbs' now." McGee winced.

"Oh boy. How'd it go with her father?"

Tony shrugged. "Well most of the conversation was in Hebrew. But I was sitting here and she was sitting at her desk and I could hear _his_ voice clear as day, so I'm guessing it didn't go too well. He doesn't like me."

No surprise there. "Well…screw him. I doubt Ziva wanted him to come anyways."

Tony wasn't too sure about that. The pained, disappointed look that had been evident in Ziva's expression when she'd hung up after the disastrous conversation certainly seemed to say otherwise.

"He causes too much trouble when he's around anyways. Probably better he isn't there; the entire venue would probably be blown up."

It was a pretty tasteless joke. Tony was lucky Ziva wasn't there to hear it. His phone buzzed before McGee could respond, and he grabbed it quickly, flipping it open to find a text waiting for him.

_Heading home. Do you want me to get something for supper?_

Tony considered this for a moment before typing out a response. _You know what, I'm leaving the office now, how about I make pasta? All the take-out is starting to make me fat_.

He'd just thrown his backpack over his shoulder when he received a response. _Sure, blame the take-out_.

He laughed. _Smartass. See ya soon_.

"Oh!" He snapped his fingers right as he stepped out of the bullpen, turning quickly on his heel to look back at McGee, who was just sitting down at his computer. "Before I forget, Abby the Wedding Planner is all over me to pick a best man. You interested?"

McGee's head snapped up, surprise clear in his eyes. "What, me? Be your best man?"

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, I mean, it's not that big a deal, just write a cheesy speech, I'm not really feelin' a bachelor party—" McGee raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Oh don't give me that look. You wanna be my best man or not?"

McGee smirked a bit. "Sure, Tony. I'd love to be your best man."

"Great. See ya tomorrow."

And Tony left, leaving a rather shocked McGee in his wake.

Ziva was standing in the kitchen, making tea, when Tony slipped into the apartment. He smiled as he crossed the linoleum floor to stand behind her, looping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You all right?"

Ziva sighed as she turned to press her lips to Tony's cheek. "I'm fine," she promised, and Tony couldn't see any hint of a lie in her eyes.

"Where'd you disappear to when you left the office?"

"I went to talk to Gibbs." Of course. "I thought I would give my father a chance, but I never really expected him to come. And honestly, I would rather have Gibbs walk me down the aisle anyways."

"Just as good, I think we can all do without our daily dose of Mossad for the year." Ziva laughed, resting her head against Tony's.

"So did you talk to McGee yet?"

"Yes I talked to McBest Man." Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Not one of your better nicknames."

"Give me time, I'll think of something." Tony laughed as he pulled away from Ziva at last and went to get a pan, remembering his promise to make tonight a pasta night. "Oh, and by the way, _yes_, it's the _take-out_ that's making me fat."

"Right. It has _nothing _to do with the fact that your exercise routine is, shall we say, _less _than adequate," Ziva smiled as she poked Tony in the side, and he jumped.

"Okay, _just_ because I don't get up at four freakin' a.m. every day to run twenty miles—"

"You do not _run_ at all."

"Yeah, whatever. I still maintain it's the take-out's fault that I'm getting fat."

"Whatever you say, Tony. Whatever you say."

* * *

The sun was bright and warm as it beat down on Leroy Jethro Gibbs' backyard. Ziva had insisted she wanted the wedding to be small, simple. Friends and family (the two were interchangeable, really) in a small, enclosed setting. Gibbs had been more than happy to volunteer his backyard for the occasion, had even gotten Ducky to help him clean up, plant some flowers, make the place look nice.

Now a large arc stood at the far end of the backyard, Tony standing under it with a priest and rabbi in front of him. A piano was tucked away in one corner of the yard, his and Ziva's elderly neighbor (who had come to love her younger, erratic neighbors like children) was parked in front of it preparing to play.

Tony took a deep breath as the music started.

Down the aisle first came little Amira Franks, holding a flower basket and looking more than adorable in her tiny white dress while her mother sat in the audience. Also in the audience, after a lot of grumbling on Tony's part, was DiNozzo Sr. He was family, Ziva had said. He deserved to see his only son's wedding.

After Amira came Ducky and Ziva's Aunt Nettie (who had been more than happy to fly in from Israel), arm in arm. Tony could see a potential couple there. After them came McGee and Abby, the latter of whom had to be restrained to keep from _bouncing_ down the aisle. Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing. Only Abby.

And then it was Ziva's turn.

Tony's breath caught in his throat when he saw her. They hadn't adhered to the usual wedding rules, refusing to spend twenty-four hours apart before the ceremony. So Abby had come by the apartment at four that morning and kidnapped Ziva, saying they could see each other at the wedding.

Now it was just after one p.m. And in the nine hours that had passed since they'd last seen each other, Ziva had somehow become more beautiful, something Tony hadn't known was possible.

Her hair was hanging in loose, soft ringlets around her slim face, falling past her shoulders. Her dress, which Tony hadn't seen before now, of course, was beautiful, but simple. Just like her.

It was perfect.

The sight of Tony, standing at the end of the aisle, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, sent the air whooshing from Ziva's lungs, and for a moment she couldn't breathe.

Then Gibbs looped his arm through hers, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, stopping long enough as he straightened up to whisper, "You look beautiful," before they started down the aisle.

When asked later, neither Tony nor Ziva would be able to recall most of the ceremony. They would remember the vows they had written for one another, would remember promising each other forever. Because really, that was all that mattered.

And Ziva, though she'd never tell anyone (besides Tony, of course) would remember looking to the edge of the yard for just moment, right before Tony said "I do," and seeing her father's face in the shadows. But when she looked back again, he was gone.

* * *

Ziva sighed as she slid down to sit next to Tony, who was leaning against the bathtub, his knees drawn up to his chest. He wrapped his arm around Ziva's shoulder, drawing her in to his side and holding her tightly.

"How long does it take?"

"Three minutes."

They breathed deeply in unison, exchanging slightly panicked looks. "Well…" Tony said after a moment, "there are _worse_ ways to start a marriage, right?"

Ziva laughed weakly, resting her head against her husband's shoulder.

_Husband_. He was her _husband_. Somehow, the thought still made her feel giddy.

"Do you…_want_ children?" She asked after a moment, hesitant. It wasn't something they had talked about extensively; it had only been a couple of months, after all.

"Well I'm not gonna pretend I'm ready to play Daddy," Tony admitted. "But it's you, and it's us, and what the hell, right? We'll make beautiful babies." Ziva laughed again, closing her eyes. "What about you? Ready for a little DiNozzo to be running around?"

"I can barely handle the DiNozzo I have _now_." Ouch. Tony chuckled. Ziva smiled as she wrapped her arms loosely around her knees.

"You know," Tony said suddenly, "last year at this time we were sitting across from one another in the bullpen and you were threatening me with a paper clip." Ziva didn't answer, unsure of where he was going with this. "How did we get here?"

"We had unprotected sex."

There was a moment of silence, and then they both burst out laughing. They were avoiding the obvious answer; they were here because Tony had died, and Ziva had fallen apart.

But what had come of it was something more beautiful than words could ever describe.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Ziva's head. She smiled softly, sighing.

"Well after all this I certainly _hope_ you love me."

"Smartass," Tony snorted, kissing her again. "I'm trying to be serious here. I love you, and no matter what happens, you know I'll never leave you, right?"

The conversation had just gotten very serious very fast. It was unnerving. "Tony—"

"Just say yes and kiss me." Ziva rolled her eyes, smiling a bit.

"Yes." She tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his. "Happy?"

"When I'm with you? Always."

"Sap," Ziva snorted, grabbing Tony's wrist and twisting it around. "It has been three minutes. Actually it has been seven." She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening her eyes again. "Are you ready?"

Tony stood up slowly, stretching his arms over his head before reaching a hand out to Ziva. "Ready when you are, babe."

Ziva smiled as she took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. They exchanged weak smiles before turning to the small white stick sitting on the counter.

Their future.

Tony grabbed the box as Ziva picked up the stick, taking in the results. "Two pink lines," she told Tony, and he scanned the box quickly.

"Two pink lines…" A large grin unfurled over his lips. "Pregnant."

Green eyes met brown, and the box and pregnancy test were both quickly abandoned in favor of a long, deep, passionate kiss. "I love you," Ziva murmured when they pulled apart to breathe, her lips moving against his. Tony's grin widened — something he hadn't known was possible. "I love you so much, Tony."

"I love you too, Ziva. Always."

It was impossible to believe, as they stood there now, kissing and basking in the exciting yet frightening revelation they were going to be _parents_, that just a year ago they had been nothing but partners, friends on their good days. Hard to believe that nine months ago Tony had put himself in front of an oncoming bullet, effectively setting off a devastating chain of events that couldn't have possibly led to a happy ending.

But now here they were. Alive. Happy. Married. Expecting a child.

_Together_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**…Wow. So everyone got their happy ending, which I was always planning on. I didn't realize it would be quite so sappy though…heh. Oh well. In the original version of this chapter Mike Franks also made a cameo at the wedding — I wrote this before _Swan Song_. I decided, in light of recent events, that I'd take him out, but I felt like he still needed to be mentioned. RIP Mike =(

**ForeverSam's Sappy Corner: **This is the part where I thank everyone, from the bottom of my heart, for the constant support and reviews. You guys were all amazing! I wasn't sure about this story from the very beginning — how people would react to the idea, if people would be okay with the absolute OOC-ness (no matter how necessary), and so on and so forth. I'm sure you all remember my worries. But everyone really seemed to like this, and the reviews have really kept me going. So thank you so, so, so, so, sooo much for all the support! I couldn't have done this without all of you! =D

As for what's next…well, I've still got _Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking_ (which you should totally check out if you haven't yet *shameless plug*). I decided to scrap the idea that was inspired by the season finale — I started to write it, then realized it wasn't really going anywhere, so I gave up. Besides that, I've been working on a one-shot based on this story — it's an absolute monster of one about Ziva giving birth. I think I have too much time on my hands XD This is what being on summer vacation does to me though. And besides that, I've been working on a new multi-chapter story. Details:

_**Title: **__The End's Beginning_

_**Rating: **__T_

_**Summary: **__It was the end of life as they both knew it, and the beginning of so much more. In the aftermath of a terrible accident, Tony and Ziva are left to pick up the pieces of their lives, and re-learn how to live with the cards fate has dealt them —Tiva—_

So if it's something you think you'd be interested in, let me know! I have another story idea that I'm working on called _Half A World Away,_ but I can't for the life of me figure out a decent summary for it. It's an AU story, Tiva obviously. It's set in 2001 — the basic idea is that Tony and Ziva are 18 and just starting college and dating when 9/11 happens, and Tony decides to enlist in the army to fight and goes to Afghanistan and can you see why I'm having a hard time writing a summary for this? Heh…I'll figure it out. If that's something you might be interested in though, let me know!

In the meantime, this is Sam, signing off on this story for the last time! ~Sam


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